

It^tltcr Shaulg. 



Froiit if pie c e 




Th* CHOICE of HERCULES. 



JitJjfu-Jz'd as rir./cf direete byJ.Joh/u-ori /n J.^I'aulr tfk.Y'. 1 Mini i/#-; 



E XE R 



EL 




VARIOUS AUTHORS, 



AND 



ARRANGED .UNDER PROPER HEADS 

INTENDED A3 A SEQUEL TO A WORK ENTITLED 

THE SPEAKER. 



BY WILLIAM ENFIELD, LL.D. 

LECTURER OK THE BELLES LETTTtES IN THE 
ACADEMY AT WARRINGTON. 

ANEW EDITION. 

To which are added, 

COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN; 
In a Lett e a from a Father to his Son. 



Floriferis nt apes in faJtibus omnia libant, 
Omnia nos itidem depafcimur aurea didta. 

. Lucretius, 



L O N D ON: 

printed for j. joiinson, no. 72, St. taul's churchyard. 



1804. 



not 



Exchange 

Wee-tern Ont. Univ* library 



AUG J 2 t94f 



Prfnfed by Li'Si H'Xns'arc, ' 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



THE Compilation prefented to the Public under the title of 
The Speaker having met with a favourable reception, the 
Editor has been induced to make a fcond colleclion on the fame 
plan, with the immediate dcfign of affording farther- afjiftanct 
to Youth in acquiring the habit of reading and fpeaking with 
propriety. In this view of the publication alone, he apprehends 
nat a new set of exerciser will not -be unacceptable either 
1 Teachers or Pupils, Bi.t- befides this, it has been his in- 
tention, in extending- this Mifcellany, is colletl, - and digejly 
wider dijlincl heads,- a large- number of fu%h paffagts from the 
mofl approved literary productions of our ■ owfi country,' ar 
might ferve to lead young perfons into fume acquaintance with 
the mofi valuable writers, and affijl them in forming a tajie 
for the beauties of fine writing. He has alfo kept in viezu the 
/till more important objecl, of providing them with ufeful lef 
fons of LiflruRion, and imprefjing Upon their minds the fenti- 
mcnts of Honour and Virtue. If thcfe ends Jhould, in any de- 
gree, be anfwered^ the Ed. tor will think his labour happily 
bcficwed. 



/ 



The PLATES are to be placed as follows : 

Frontifpiece - - • - to face the Title. 

Damon and Pythias - - - ft face p. 21. 

Paternal Forgiveneis - - - - - 30 

He&or and Andromache . ... * 29} 

and not as direded in the Plates. 



THE CONTENTS. 



BOOK I. 
NARRATIVE PIECES. 

Chap. Page 

I. Refpe& due to Old Ag^ - - Spe&ator* I 

II. fcaetus and Arria - • - Pliny, ib. 
in. Abdolonymus raifed to the Government cf 

Sidon . - - - ^ Curtius. 3 
xv. Firrnnefs exemplified in Alexander Severus 

Gibbon. C, 
v. The Refignation of the Emperor Charles V. 

Robert/on* 6 

vi. Muly Moluc - - - Spefiitor, 10 

'Vix. Valentine and Unnion - - * Tatler. 1 1 

viii. Good-natured Credulity - - Percival. 12 

ix. Example of Veracity - - - id* 13 

X. Modefty rewarded - Strefck. 14 

XI. The Contented Porter - - Richara*}cn, 16 

xii. Genealogy of Tafte - - - Cooper. 17 

xiii. Damon and Pythias - - - Brooke. 20 

xiv. § 1. Filial Duty. § 2. Paternal Forgivenefs 

Aikin 22 and 27 

xv. The Monk - - ' - Sterne. 31 

xvi. The Progrefs of Difcontent - - War ton. 34 

xvii. The Tpwn and Country Mice - - Pope. 37 

xviii. The Three Warnings - - Mrs. Tk ale. 39 

xix. Edwin and Angelina - - G.ttfmhh. 42 

xx. The Blackbirds , - - - Jago. 47 

xxi. The Nun - Jerni?ghatn. 50 

xxii. Rodolpho and Matilda - Keate. 55 

xxiii. Lavinia - - -.. - Thomfon. <J7 

xxiy. The Traveller loft in the Snow - id. 61 

xxv. Eve's Dream - - - - . Milton. 6z 

BOOK II. 

DIDACTIC PIECES. 

1. On Elocution - - - - CbefierfielL 65 

II. On Reading the Common Prayer Spectator. 67 

in. Advice to a young Clergyman - Swift. 69 

iv. On Dignity of Manners : - - Chejlc- field. 74 

On 



vi THE CONTENTS. 



Chap. 






Page. 


V 


. On Vulgarity - - - 


- Chejlerfield. 


7 6 


VI 


On Good Breeding 


id. 


79 


VII. 


The Art of Pleafing - 


- - id. 


82 


VIII 


Induftry Recommended 


id 


92 


IX- 


Agninft a Dilatory Difpofition 


Rambler. 


95 


X. 


On Prodigality - 


- - id. 


98 


XI. 


On Generofity 


Mtlmoth. 


100 


XjJ. 


On Palfe - 


id. 


102 


XIII. 


On Style - - ' - 


- ' - id 


•IO£ 


XIV. 


On Thinking - 


- - id. 


107 


XV. 


On Truth - - - 


- - id. 


no 


xvi 


The Judgment of Hercules 


- ■ - S pence. 


113 


XVII. 


Variety in Human Characters 


Tope- 


•121 


xvin. 


Pliilofophical Melancholy 


Thotrrfon* 


123 


XIX. 


Contemplation 


id. 


124 



BOOK III. 

ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. 

. I. Proof of the Exiftence of a Deity - - E. 125 

11. On Difmttrefted Friendibip - - Cicero. 127 
Hi. The Folly of Lnconuftent Expectations Mrs. 

. .^ Barbauld. I 3 1 

iv. The , Perfection of '^Human Nature - Pope. 134 

v, Againft Seifiilinefs - - id. 136 

- COOK IV. 

ORATIONS iko HARANGUES. 

1. Minlius to bis'Son - Livy. 138 

n. Muciu'- -S.c^vola to Kirig Porfenna - id. ib. 

Hi Sophonifria to 3V'li tfliriifla - id. 139 

iv. crci-io to rhe Romans - ' - -id. 140 

v. Demofthtnes to the Athenians "againft Philip ib. 

: Vi. Dermithenes to the Athenians concerning 

the Regulation of t he Statfe - - 144 

vii. Micipfa to Jugurtha - -... - Salluft. 1^6 

Viii. Adherbal to the Roman Senate - - id. 148 

ix. General Wolfe to his Army - - Aikin. 151 

X. To Art - - - - - - Hnrris. 1*53 

xi. To the Sea - - - - - Keate, 155 

in. Jupiter to the Inferior Deities, - - Homer. 156 

xui. Sarpcdon to Glaucus - - - id. 157 

4 " Maitfort's 



THE CONTENTS. vii 



Chap 



Page. 

x i v. Malefort's Defence of himfelf - Mafinger. 158 

xv. Henry V re nis Soldiers at Haineur Sbak/i care. i6o : 

xvi. Prologue to Gato - -. ' - - 'p e p e i6r 

xvii. Cato's Senate - - - - - Addi/on. 162 

BOOK V. 

DIALOGUES. 

T. Myrtle and Bevil ... - - Steele. 168 

- II. Lionel and Flowerdale - Lionel and CumJJa. 

ur. Alfred and Hen-nit - - MnRu. 

iv. Guftavus Vafa, Anderfon, Arnoldus- and 

Aryida - ._ _ . Br0Q i s 

v. TamerLne and Dervife - - R owe iky 

vi. Comus and Lady - - . Mutm. iyi 

vii. The Brothers - • - . . }d , > 

vui. Catharine and Griffith * - .SbaLpean. iqq 

ix. Iriaiof Shyiock' - - - * -id. 20* 

BOOK vr. 
DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 



172 

'74 



1. Crwa£er. of Marius - ? - Middkton. 

11. ,. ~ of Svlla 

in. 

iv. _ 



id. 



21 3 



v 



^.ofPoropey - - - - ,V. 2l6 
of Julius Csfar - - - ,y. 220 
ofCato -'-._. /V ; 2 2j 

vi.— -of the Virtuous Man - For-yce 222 

vii. —of a True Friend - - / 2 o* 

vui. The Ruling Paffion - - - . Pope. ^1 

ix. TheAclor : - . . . „ LloU ^ 

x. Ode to Education - - - . . Rjco ,, ,'£ 

xi. Hymn to Lheerfulnefs - - - Ahnjidt. 234 

xn. Ode to Independence - - - tmoiMtzik 

xi 1 1. Ode to Mirth ---... M- 2 £ 

xiv. Thought in a Garden - - - - J£,Ss ll? 

xv. Hymn to Cynthia - - ■ . ". B. J^i. ^ 
xvi. The-Cuckoo - % 

xvii. The Winter's Walk - - - '%h^ n . ^y- 
xvii 1. The Hem* ----._ E et /ttie IV* ' 

xix. ThePraifeofPhilofophy ... 'id^l 
xx. Hymn to Light ...... Cwley. 2J2 

Xxi. Invocation to Light .... Miitmt sec* 

' "thl 



viii THE CONTENTS. 

Chap - Pa ? e. 

xxi J. The Paffions ..... Collins. 257 

Xxui Pr afe of England - - - Dyer,' 161 

xxiv. Sheep Shearing - - - ... (d, /^ # 

xxv. Rife and Declenfion of Rome - - id. 263 

xxvi. National Characters - - - Gddfmitb 267 
xxvii. Ancient Rome - - - - Tbomfon. 273 

Xxviii. Ancient Greece - - id. 275 

xxix. The King or a Free People - ., . id, 279 

xxx. Independence ------ -id. 280 

xxxi. Verfes addrefTed 'o a Friend jnft leaving a fa- 
vourite Retirement previous to fettling 

abroad ---.-. S. H. 281 



BOOK VJL 

PATHETIC PIECES. 

i* Dirge in Cyrabeline - . - - - Colli ;s. 285 

11. A Winter Piece - A. 286 

in. Fieay to Pity ----- . - R, n m 

IV. An Evening Addrefs to the Nightingale Shaiv. $87 

v. Parting ot Heeler and Andromache Hcmer. 291 

vi." Helena upbraiding Hermia - - Shahpeare 294 

vn. Buckingham going to Execution - id. 295 

viii. Sforza pleading his Cau:e betore Charles V 

MaJJtnger. 297 

IX. Faulconbridge and King John Shakfpeare 300 

x. Brutus and Titus - - Lee. 302 

XI. bebatlian and Dorax - - - - Diyden. 3. 6 

xii. Antony and Ventidius - . - - id. 3-4 

. XI u. Theodofius and Marcian - - - - Lee. 3^3 

Xiv. Glofter and Haftings - Rcnve. 30 

xv. Goltavus and Dalecarlians - - - E.ooke. 334 

xvi. Guftavus and Criftiern' - id. 33^ 

xv 1 1 Iiabeila and A.igelo - - - - Shak/peare. 34 1 

xvi 11. King John and Hubert* - - - - id, 345 

xix. Nortrnimberiand and Morton _ - id. 349 

xx. The Bard ----- - - Cray. 352 

APPF NDIX. 

Counfels to Young Men ; in a Letter from a Father 

to a bon. ---------- 3^7 

BOOK 



BOOK L 
NARRATIVE PIECES. 

CHAP. I. 

RESPECT due to OLD ACT. 

med at Athens, during a public repreientatioit 
toe play exhibited in honour -of the commonwealth, 
that an oL aan came too late for a place fuitable 

to his age and qua! any of the young gentlemen, 

who obferved the difficulty and confuiion he was in, 
made figns to him that they would accommodate him if 
he came where they fat; the good man bu filed through 
the crowd accordingly : but when he came to the feat: 
to which he was invited, the j eft was, to fit clofe and ex- 
pofe him, as he ftood cut of countenance, to the whole 
audience. The frolic went round all the Athenian benches. 
But on thofe occafions there were alio particular places 
gned for foreigner.?: when the good man ikuiked to- 
wards the boxes appointed for the Lacedemonians, that 
honeft people, more virtuous than polite, rofe up all to a 
-man, and with the greateft refpecr received him among 
them. The Athenians, being fuddenly touched with a fenfe 
of the Spartan virtue and their own degeneracy, gave a 
thunder of applaufe, and the old man cried out, "The 
Athenians undent and what is good, but the Lacedemoai- 
*ns praetile it." Spectator. 

CHAP. II. 
fiETUS and A RRIA. 
In the reign of Claudius the Roman emperor, Arria, 
the wife of Cceciima Partus, was an illuftrious pattern of 
magnanimity and conjugal affection, 

B It 



2 NARRATIVE PIECES. Book I. 

It happened that her hufband and her fon were both at 
the fame time attacked with a dangerous illnefs. The fon 
<hed. He was a youth endowed with every quality of mind 
and perfon which coulcj endear him to his parents. His 
mother's heart was torn with all the anguifh of grief; yet 
ihe refolved to conceal the diftrefling event from her huf- 
band. She prepared and conducted his funeral lb pri- 
vately, that Pcetus did not know of his death. Whenever 
(he came into her htifband's bedchamber, me pretended 
her fon was better; and as often as he inquired after his 
health would. anfwer, that he had retted well, or had eaten 
with an appetite. When fhe found that fhe could no 
longer reftrain her grief, but her tears were gufhing out, 
/he would leave the room, -and, having given vent to her 
paiSon, return again with dry eyes, and a ferene counte- 
nance, as if me had left her -farrow behind her at the 
door of the chamber. 

Camillus Scribonianus,the governor of Dalmatia, having 
taken up arms againft Claudius,Pa3tusjoined himfelf to his 
party, and was fo on after taken prifoner, and brought to 
Home. When the guards were going to put him on board 
the fhip, Arria befought them that (lie might be permitted 
to go with him. " Certainly/' faid me, "you cannot re- 
** fufe a man of confular dignity, as he is, a few attendants 
*• to wait upon him ; but if you will take me, I alone will 
" perform their office." This favour, however, was re- 
fufed ; upon which me hired a fmall fiihing-veffel, and 
boldly ventured to foil ow the fnip. 

Returning to Rome, Arria met the wife of Scribonianus 
in the emperor's palace, who prelling her to difcover all 
that me knew of the infurre&ioh, " 'What j" laid flie, 
" mall I regard thy advice, who faw- thy hufband mur- 
" dered in thy very arms, and yet furvivefl him ?" 

Partus being condemned to die, Arria formed.a deliberate 
reiblution to mare his fate, and made no iecretof her in- 
tention. TLralea, who married her daughter, attempting 
to difiuadeher from her purpofe, among other arguments 

which 



Chap. III. NARRATIVE PIECES. 3 

which he ufed, faid to her, " Would you then, if my life 
11 were to be taken from me, advifeyour daughter to die 
« with me ?" " Molt certainly I would," fhe replied, " if 
u fhe had lived as long, and in as much harmony with 
rt you, as I have lived with Faetus/* 

Perfifting in her determination, fhe found means to pro- 
vide herielf with a dagger: and one day, when lhe obierv- 
ed a more than ufual gloom on the countenance of Partus, 
and perceived that death by the hand of the executioner 
appeared to him more terrible than in the field of glory- 
perhaps too, fenfible that it was chiefly for her fake that 
he wiihed to live — fhe drew the dagger from her fide, and 
(tabbed herfelf before his eyes. Then inftantly pluekiug 
the weapon from her breaft, (he prefented it to her huf- 
band, faying, " My Partus, it is not painful*." Plix s . 

CHAP. III. 

ABDOLONYMU3 ratsed to the GOVERNMENT 
of SI DON. 
The city of Sidon having furrendered to Alexander, he 
ordered IIepha>ftion to beftow the crown on him whom the 
Sidonians mould think moil worthy of that honour. He- 
plncftion, being at that time refident with two young men 
of difrinction, offered them the kingdom : but they refufed 
it, telling him that it was contrary to the laws of their 
country, to admit any one to that honour, who was not of 
the royal family. I Ie then, having expreffed his admiration 
of their dilinterefted fpirit, defired them to name one of 



* In the. Tatter, Xo, 72, a fancy piece is drawn, founded on 
the principal fact in tkisjlofy, but wholly fictitious: in thecir- 
tymjlanas of the tale. The author, mi/taking Cctanm Partus 
for Thrqjra Paius, has accufed even Nero unjuftly, charging 
him with an action which certainly belonged to Claudius. 
See Pliny's Ep{iiks, Book in. Ep, 10\ Dion Caitius, Lib. 
Lx. mid Tacitus, Lib. xvi. § 35, 

B 2 th. 



* ( NARRATIVE PIECES. " Book I. 

the royal race, who might remember that he received the 
crown through their hands. Overlooking many who would 
have been ambitious of this high honour', they made choice 
of Abdolonymus, whofe Angular merit had rendered him 
conspicuous even in the vale of obfcurity. Though re- 
motely related to the royal family, aferies of misfortunes 
iiad reduced him to the neceffity of cultivating a garden, 
for a fmall ftipend, in the fuburbs of the city. 

While -Abdolonymus was bufily employed in weeding 
his garden, the two friends of Hephaeftion, bearing in their 
iiands theenngns of royalty, approached him, and falutcd 
him king; informing him that Alexander had appointed 
him to the office ; and requiring him immediately to ex- 
change his ruftic garb, and utenfils of husbandry, for the 
regal robe and fceptre. At the fame time they Urged him, 
when he fhould be feated on the throne, and have a nation 
in his power, not to forget the humble condition from 
which he had been raifed. 

All this, at the tine, appeared to Abdolonymus as an il- 
", u.lon of the fancy , or an infult offered to his poverty. He 
Tequefted them not to trouble him farther with their im- 
pertinent jefts, and to find fome other way of amufin-j 
themfelves, which might leave him in the peaceable en- 
joyment of his obfeure habitation. At length, however, 
they convinced him that they were ferious in their pro* 
pcfal, and prevailed upon him to accept the regal office,' 
and accompany them to the palace. 

No fooner was he in porTeffion of the government, than 
pride and envy created him enemies, who whifpered their 
jnurmurs in every place, till at laft they reached the ear of 
Alexander ; who, commanding thenew elected prince to be 
lent for, inquired of him, with what "temper of mind he 
had borne his poverty. " Would to Heaven,'! replied Ab- 
dolonymus, " that I maybe able to bear my crown with 
-■'equal moderation: for when I poneffed little, I wanted 
** nothing; thefe hands fupplied me with whatever I de- 
<" -fired." From this anfwer, Alexander formed fo high an 

idea 



Chap. IV, NARRATIVE PI S< E$ £ 

idea of bis wifdom, that he confirmed the choice which 
had been made, and annexed a neighbouring province to 
the government of Sido n. Q u i x i u s C u ht i its. 

CHAP. TV. 

FIRMNESS exemplified ix ALEXANDER 
SEVERUS, 

Whilst Alexander Severuslay at Antioch, in his Per- 
ilan expedition, the puniiliment of ibme foldiers excited 
a fedition in the legion to which they belonged. Alex- 
ander afe'ended his tribunal, and, with a modef: fVrmneik, 
reprefentcd to the armed multitude iheabfolute necciiity* 
as well as his inflexible refolution, of correcting the vice > 
introduced by his impure predeceubr ; and of maintaining 
the difcipline,which could not be relaxed without the ruin 
of the R-oman name and empire. Their clamours inter* 
runted his mild expostulation. {: Referveycur (bouts/' laid 
the undaunted emperor, " till you take the field, again!': 
" the Perfians, the Germans, and the Sarmatians. Eefderin 
u in the prefence of your fovereign and benefactor, who 
w beftows upon you the corn, the clothing, and the moneys 
u of the provinces. Be filent, or I mall no longer ftyle you 
" foldiers, but citizens; if thofe, indeed, who difclaim the 
" laws of Rome, deferve to be ranked among the meanefr 
" of the people." His menaces inflamed the fury, of the 
legion, and their brandifhed arms already threatened his 
perfon. " Your courage/' refumed the intrepid Alexander, 
" would be more nobly difplayed in afield of battle : me 
a you may deftroy ; you cannot intimidate : and the fevere 
" juftice of the republic would punifh your crime, and 
" revenge my death." The legion ftill perliitmg in clamo- 
rous fedition, the emperor pronounced, with a loud voice, 
the decifive lenience, " Citizens ! lay down your arms, and 
" depart, in peace, to your refpeclive habitations." The 
tempeft was inftantly appeafed ; the foldiers, filled with 
grief and fhame, filently conferred the juftice of their pu- 
• nifhment, and the power of discipline ;- yielded up their 

B 3. - arms 



6 NARRATIVE PIECES. Book I. 

arms and military enfigns; and retired, inconfufion, not 
to- their camp, but to the feveral inns of the city. Alexan- 
der enjoyed, during thirty days, the edifying ipectacle of 
their repentance ; nor did he reftore them to their former 
rank in the army,till he had puniflied thofe tribunes, whofe 
connivance had occafioned the mutiny. Gibbon. 

CHAP. V. 

The RESIGNATION of the EMPEROR 
CHARLES V. 

Charles refolved to refign his kingdoms to his foil 
with a folemnity fuitable to the importance of the tranf- 
action ; and to perform this laft act of fovereignty with 
fuch formal pomp, as might leave an indelible impreffion 
on the minds, not only of his fubjocrs, but of his fuccef- 
for. With this view he called Philip out of England, 
where the peevifh temper of his queen, which increavd 
with her defpair of having. iflite, rendered him extremely 
unhappy; and the jealouiy of the Englifn left him no 
fcspts of obtaining the direction of their affairs. Having 
aiTembled the ftates of the Low Countries, at BrufTels, 
on the twenty-fifth of October, one thoufaud five* 
hundred and fifty-five, Charles l'cated himlelf, for the 
laft time, in the chair of liate, on one fide of which was 
placed his for?, and, on the other, his fitter the queen of 
Hungary, regent of the Netherlands, with afplendid re- 
tinue of the grandees of Spain, and princes of the em- 
pire, ftanding behind him. The preiident of the council 
cf Flanders, by his command, explained, in a few words, 
bis intention in calling this extraordinary meeting of 
the ftates. He then read tlie initrumcut of. refignution, 
%y which Charles furrendered to his foil Philip all his 
territories, jurifdiftion, and authority, in'the Low Coun- 
tiies; abfolving his fubjects there from their .oath 
of allegiance to him, which he required them to traiif- 
fer to Philip, .his lawful heir, and to ferve him with 
the fame loyvity and zea^. which they had manifefted, 

durhi'i 



Chap. V. NARRATIVE PIECES. 7 

during fo'long a courfe of years, in fuppoTt of his go- 
vernment. 

Charles then rofe from his ff-at ; and, leaning on the 
ftioulder of the prince of Orange, becaufe he was unable 
to fiand without fupport, he addrefled himfelf to the au- 
dience; and, from a paper which he held in his hand, in 
order to amid his memory, he recounted, with dignity, 
feut without oftentation, all the great things which he 
had undertaken and performed, iinte the commencement 
of his adminift ration. He obi'erved, that, from the feven- 
tfcenth year of his age, he had dedicated all his thoughts 
and attention to public objects ; referving no portion ot 
his time for the indulgence of his eafe, and very little 
for the enjoyment of private pleafure: that, either in a 
pacific or boftile manner, he had vifited Germany nine 
.times, Spain fix times, France four times, Italy ieven 
times, the Low Countries ten times, England twice, Africa 
as often, and had made eleven voyages by fea: that, 
while liis health permitted him to clifcharge his duty, 
arid the vigour of his conftitution was equal, in any de- 
gree, to the arduous office of governing fuch extenfive 
dominions, he had never ihimned labour, nor repined 
under fatigue: that now, when his health was broken,, 
and his vigour exhaufted by the rage of an incurable 
diftemper, his growing infirmities admonimed him to 
retire : nor was he fo fond of reigning, as to retain the 
fceptre in an impotent hand, which was no longer able 
to protect his fubjecls, or to render them happy: that, 
inliead of a fovereign worn out with difcafes, and fc&rcely 
half alive, he gave them one in the prime of life, accuf- 
tomed already, to govern, and who added to the vigour 
of youth all the attention andlagacity of maturer years: 
that if, during the courfe of a long adminiftration, he 
had committed any material error m government; or if, 
under the prelTure of fo many and great affairs, and amidfl 
the attention which he had been obliged to give to them, 
he had either neglected or injured any of his fubjecls, 
B 4 he 



8 NARRATIVE PIECES. Rook I 

he now implored their forgivenefs : that, for h's part, 
he mould ever retain a grateful fenfe of their fidelity and 
attachment, and would carry the remembrance of it 
along with him to the place of his retreat, as his fvveetefl 
eonfolation, .as well as the bed reward for all his fer- 
vices; and in his laft prayers to Almighty God, would*, 
pour forth his ardent wimes for their welfare. 

Then, turning towards Philip, who fell on his knees> 
,and killed his father's hand, " If," fays he, "I had left 
tl you, by my death, this rich inheritance, to which I have 
" made fuch large additions, fome regard would have been 
" juitly due to my memory on that account: but,, now, 
" when I voluntarily refign to you what I might have full 
u retained, I may well expect the warmeft expreffions of 
" thanks on your part. With thefe, however, I difpenfe ; 
" and mail confider your concern for the welfare of your 
" fubjecls, and your love of them, as the bell and meft 
" acceptable leftimony of your gratitude to me. It is in 
" your power, by a wife and virtuous adminiftration, to 
M juftify the extraordinary proof, which I, this day, give 
;< of my paternal affection; and to demonftrate, that you 
," are worthy of the confidence which I repofe in you, 
u Preferve an inviolable regard for religion; maintain the 
V Catholic faith in its purity ; let the laws of your country 
■ l be i acred in your eves; encroach not on the rights 
k and privileges of your people: and, if the time mail 
v ever come, when you mall wiih to enjoy. the jtran- 
i( qnilHty of private life, may you have a fen, endowed 
" with fuch qualities, that you can refign your fceptre 
** to him, with as much fatisfaction, as I give up mine 
'■•' to you!" 

As foon as Charles had finifhed this long addrefs to 
his iubjecis, and to their new fovereign, he funk into 
the chair, cxhaufted, and ready to-faint with the fatigue 
of fuch an extraordinary effort. During his difcourfe, 
the whole audience melted into tears; fome, fromadmira- 
lion of his magnanimity ; others, .fattened by the expreC- 



Ciiap.V. NARRATIVE PIECES, , $ 

fions of tendernefs towards his fon, and of love to his 
people: and all were affected with the deepeft forrow r 
at lofing a foverei.gnj_.who had diftinguiihed the Nether- 
lands, his native country, with particular marks of his 
regard and attachment. 

' A few weeks afterwards, Charles, in an affembly no left 
fplendidj and with a ceremonial equally pompous, rengned 
to his fon the crowns of Spain, with all the territories de- 
pending on them, both in the Old and in the New World. 
Of all thefe vail poffefiions, he.referved nothing for him- 
feJf, but an annual pennon of a hundred thoufand crowns* 
to defray the charges of his- family, and to afford him a 
imall fum, for ads of beneficence and charity. 

The place he had chofen for his retreat, was the mo- 
nailery of St. Julius, in the province of Eftremadura. It 
was feated in a vale of no great extent, watered by a 
imall brook, and furrouncled by rifing grounds, covered 
with lofty trees. From the nature of the foil, as well as 
the temperature of the climate, it was efteemed the mod 
healthful and delicious fituation in Spain. Some months- 
before his refignatiqn, he had fent an architect thither, 
to add a new apartment to the monailery, for his accom- 
modation ; but he gave ftricl orders, that the ftyle of the, 
building ihould be fuch as fuited his prefent fituation,. 
rather than his former dignity. It confiiied only cf fix 
rooms: four of them in the form of friar's cell?, with 
naked walls ; the other two, each twenty feet fquare, 
were hung with brown cloth, and furnifhed in the moil 
firople manner. They were all on a level with the ground ; 
with a door, on one fide, into a garden, of which Charles 
himfelfhad given the plan, and which he had tilled 
with various plants, intending to cultivate them with 
his own hands. On the other fide, they communicated 
with the chapel of the monaftery y in which he was to 
perform his devotions, Into this humble retreat, hardly 
fufricient for the comfortable accommodation of a prL- 
\ate gentleman, did Charles enter, with twelve domef- 

B 5 ties 



30 , UAMAftV-t PIECES. Book T. 

tics only, tie buried, there, in folitude and filence, his 
grandeur, his ambition, together with all thofe vaft pro- 
jects, which, during half a century, had alarmed and agi- 
tated Europe, filling every kingdom in it, by turns, with 
the terror of his arms > and the drCad of being fubjecled 
to his power. Robertson. 

CHAP. VI. 

M U L Y M O L U C. 

When Don Sebaftian, king of Portugal, had invaded 
the territories of MulyMoluc, emperor of Morocco, in or- 
der to dethrone him, and fet his crown upon the head of 
his nephew* Moluc was wearing away with a diftemper 
which he himfelf knew was incurable. However, he pre- 
pared for the reception of fo formidable an enemy. Ms 
was indeed fo Jar fpent with his ficknefs, that he did not 
expect to live out the whole day, when the laft decifive 
battle was given; but knowing the fatal confequences that 
would happen to his children and people, in cafe he mould 
die before he put an end to that war, he commanded his 
principal ofticers, that if he died during the engagement, 
they fhould conceal his death from the army, and that they 
fh'ould ride up to the litter in which his corpfe was carried, 
under pretence of receiving orders from him as ufual. Be- 
fore the battle begun, he was carried through all the 
ranks of his army in an open litter, as they flood drawn 
lip in array, encouraging them to fight valiantly, in de- 
fence of their religion and country. Finding afterwards 
the battle to go againft him, though he was very near his 
laft agonies, he threw himfelf out of his litter, rallied his 
army, and led them on to the charge^ which afterwards 
erided in a complete victory on the fide of the Moors, lie 
had no fooner brought his men to the engagement, but 
finding himfelf utterly fpent, he was' again replaced in his 
litter, where laying his finger on his mouth, to enjoin ie- 
crecyto his officers, > who itood about him, he died a few 
moments '.iter in that poftufe. Spectator, 



Chap. VII. NARRATIVE PIECES. II 

CHAP. VII. 
VALENTINE and UNNION. 

At the liege of Namur by the Allies, there were in the 
ranks of the company commanded by Captain Pincent, 
in Colonel Frederick Hamilton's regiment, one Unnion*. 
a corporal, and one Valentine, a private centinel: there 
happened between thefe two men a difpute about an 
affair of love, which, upon fome aggravations, . grew to 
,^an irreconcilable hatred. Unnion, being the officer of 
Valentine, took all opportunities even to flrike his rival, 
and profefs the fpite and revenge which moved him to it, 
The centinel bore it without refiftance ; but frequently 
faid he would die to be revenged of that tyrant. They 
had fpent whole months in this manner, the one injuring, 
the other complaining; when in the midftof this rage 
towards each other, they were commanded upon the at- 
tack of the caftle, where the corporal received a (hot in 
the thigh, and fell ; the French preffing on ; and he, ex- 
pecting to be trampled to death, called out to his enemy,, 
" Ah, Valentine ! can you leave me here ?' Valentine 
immediately ran back, and in the midft of a thick fire of 
the French tooi the corporal upon his back, and brought 
him through all that danger as far as the Abbey of Salfme r 
where a cannon ball took off his head : his body fell un- 
der his enemy whom he was carrying off. Unnion im- 
mediately forgot his wound, roie up, tearing his hair, 
and then threw himfelf upon the bleeding carcaie, cry- 
ing, " Ah, Valentine ! was it for me who have fo barba- 
u roufly uled thee, that thou haft died ? I will not live 
-" after thee/' He was not by any means to be forced 
from the body, but was removed with it bleeding in his, 
arms, and attended with tears by all their comrades whc* 
knew their enmity. When he was brought to. a tent r 
his wounds were dreffed by force ; but the next day, frill 
calling upon Valentine, and lamenting his cruelties t©> 
bim,jbe died in the pangs of remorfe Tatler.. 

B6 



U NARRATIVE PIECES. Book £ 

CHAP. VIII. 
GOOD-NATURED CREDULITY. 

A Chaldean peafant was conducting a goat to the 
Qity of Bagdat. He was mounted on an afs, and the- 
.goat followed him, with. a bell fufpended from his neck. 
" I mall fellthefe animals," faid he to himfelf, " for thirty 
Cl pieces of filver ; and with this money I can purchafe a 
f new turban, and a rich veftment of taffety, which I will 
" tie with a fam of purple filk. The young damfels will 
■** then fmile more favourably upoume; and I fhallbe the 
" fineft man at the mofque." "While the peafant was 
thus anticipating in idea his future enjoyments, three 
artful rogues concerted a nratagem to plunder him of his 
prefent treafures. As he moved ilowly along, one of them 
Hipped off the bell from the neck of the goat, and faftenr 
ing it., without being perceived, to the tail of the afs, car- 
ried away his booty. The man riding upon the afs, and 
bearing the found of the bell, continued to mufe without 
the iealt. fufpicion of the iofs which he had fuftained* 
fclap geniiig, however, a fhort while afterwards, to turn 
about hisheadjhe difcovered, with grief and aftoniihmrnt, 
that the animal was gone, which conftituted fo confidera- 
ble a part of his riches; and he enquired,, with the utrnoft 
anxiety, after his goat, of every traveller whom he met. 
The fecond rogue now accofted him, and faid, " I have 
** j aft feen, in yonder 5elds,.a man in great hafte, dragging 
* along with him agoat," The peafant difmounted with 
precipitation, and requeued the obliging itranger to hold 
his afs, that he might lofe no time in overtaking the thief* 
He inftantly began the purfuit, and having traveried, in 
vain, the courfe that was pointed out to him, he came back 
fatigued and breathlefr> to the place from whence he let out; 
where he neither found his afs, nor the/ileceitful informer, 
to whole c,are he had entrufted him. As he walked pen- 
frvcly onwards, overwhelmed with fhaaae, vexation, and 
9 * _ disappointment,. 



Chap. IX. NARRATIVE PIECES. IS 

difappointment, his attention was roufed by the loud com- 
plaints and lamentations of a poor man, who fat by the 
fide of a welfc He turned out of the way to fympathife 
with a brother in aiBiclion, recounted his own misfor- 
tunes, and inquired the caufeof that violentfor.row, which 
feerned to opprefs him. " Alas [" faid the poor man, in' 
the moll piteous tone of voice, " as I was refting here to 
" drink, T dropped into the water a caiket full of dia- 
w mends, which I was employed to carry to the Caliph at 
" Bagdat; and I ftiall be put to death on the fufpicioix 
u of having fecretsd fo valuable a treafure." " Why da 
" not you jump into the well in fearch of the cafket?" 
cried the peafant r afionimed at the ftupidity of his new 
acquaintance. " Becau.fe it is deep," replied the man,. 
" and I can neither dive nor fwim. But will you under- 
" take this kind office for me, and I will reward you 
w wi tli thirty pieces of filver ?" The peafant accepted 
the offer with exultation, and whilft he was putting off 
his caffock, veft, and flippers, poured out his foul in 
thanksgivings to the holy prophet, for his providential 
fuccour. But the moment he plunged into the water* 
in fearch of the pretended caiket, the man (who was one 
of the three rogues that had concerted the plan of rob-, 
bing him) feized upon his garments, and bore them off 
in feeuri.ty to his comrades* 

Thus, through inattention, fimplicity, and credulity, was 
the unfortunate Chaldean duped of all his little poiTeC* 
lions ; and he haftened.ba.ck to his cottage, with no other 
covering-for his nakednefs, than a tattered garment which 
he borrowed on the road, Percival, 

CHAP. IX, 

EXAMPLE of VERACITY. 
A Span isii cavalier, having avTaninat.ed aMoorifh genf 
tleman, inllantly fled from jufiice.. He was vigorously, 
purfued ; but availing himfelf of aluddenturn in the road, 
he leaped, unperceived, over a garden wall. The pro- 
prietor; 



U NARRATIVE PIECES. Boox I. 

prietor, who was alfo a Moor, happened to be, at that 
time, walking in the garden ; and the Spaniard fell upon 
his knees before him, acquainted him with his cafe, and 
in the molt pathetic manner implored concealment. The 
Moor liftened to him with companion, and generoufly 
promifed his affillance. He then locked him in a fum- 
mer-houfe, and left him, with an afiurance, that, when 
night approached, he would provide for his efcape. A 
few hours afterwards, the dead body of his fon was 
brought to him; and the defcription of the murderer 
exactly agreed with the appearance of the Spaniard, 
whom he had then in cuftody. He concealed the horror 
and fufpicion which he felt ; and retiring to his chamber, 
remained there till midnight. Then going privately into 
the garden, he opened the door of the mmmer-houfe, 
and thus accofted* the cavalier: " Chriftian," faid he, 
" the youth whom you have murdered was my only fon, 
"Your 'crime merits the fevereit puniflunent. But I 
"have foleinnly pledged my word for your fecurity; 
" and I difdain to violate even a raih jengagement with 
" a cruel enemy ." He conducted the Spaniard to the 
ftables, and furnifhing him with one of his fwifteft mules, 
" Fly," faid he, " whilfl the darknefs of the Bight con- 
" ceals you. Your hands are polluted with blood ; but 
" God is jull; and I humbly thank him that my faith is 
" uuipotted, and that I have rengned judgment unto 
" him." PtitciVAL. 

CHAP. X. 

MODESTY REWARDED. 

A certain cardinal, by the multitude of his generous 
actions, .gave occafion to the world to call him the Patron 
of the Poor. This eccleflaftical prince had a conftant cus- 
tom ,%nce a week, to give public audience to all indigent 
people in the hail ofrhis palace, and to relieve every one 
according to their various neceilities, or the motions of his 
own goodnefs. One day a poor widow, encouraged by the 



Chap.X. NARRATIVE PIECES. 15 

fame of his bounty, came into the hall of this cardinal, 
with her only daughter, a beautiful maid, about fifteen 
years of age. When her turn came to be heard among 
a crowd of petitioners, the cardinal obferving the marks 
of an extraordinary modefty in her face and carriage, as 
alio in her daughter, encouraged her to tell her wants 
freely. She bluming, and not without tears, thus ad- 
dreffed herfelf to him: " My lord, I owe for the rent of 
my houfe five crowns, and fuch is my misfortune, that I 
have no way left to pay it, except that which would 
break my heart, (and my landlord threatens to force me 
to it,) which is, to proftitute this my only daughter, whom 
I have hitherto with great care educated in the principles 
of virtue. What I beg of your eminence is, that you 
would be pleafed to interpofe your authority, and pro- 
tect us from the violence of this cruel man, till by honeft 
induftry we can procure the money for him." The cardinal, 
moved with admiration of the woman's virtue and modeft 
requeft, bid her be of good courage: then he immediately 
wrote a billet, and giving it into the woman's hand, " Go," 
faid he, " to my fteward, and he fliall deliver thee five 
crowns to pay thy rent/'' The widow, overjoyed, and 
returning the cardinal a thousand thanks, went directly 
to the fteward, and gave him the note. When he had 
read it, he told out Jljhj crowns. She, aftonifhed at the 
circumftance, and not knowing what the cardinal had 
wrote, refufed to take above five crowns, faying, ilie 
mentioned no more to his eminence, and me was fure it 
was fome raiftake. On the other hand, the fteward infifted 
on his matter's order, not daring to call it in queftion. 
But all the arguments he could ufe, were infufficient to 
prevail on her to take anymore than five crowns. Where- 
fore, to end the ccntroverfy, he offered to go back with 
her to the cardinal, and refer it to him. When they 
came before tha£ munificent prince, and he was fully 
informed of ihe bufinefs; " It is true," faid he, " 1 mif- 
took in writing j0'ty crowns; give me the caper, and I 

" will 



16" • NARRATIVE PIECES. Book .^ . 

will rectify it." Upon -which lis wrote again, faying to 
the woman, " So much niodefty and virtue deferves a 
recompenfe : here I have ordered you jive hundred crowns ; 
what you can fpare of it, lay upas a dowry to give with 
your daughter in marriage." Stretch,. 

chap. xi. 

THE CONTENTED PORTER. 

A porter, one day, refting himfelf, with his load by 
him, groaned aloud, and " wifhcd he had five hundred 
pounds." " Why," fays a gentleman who was palling by,. 
" I will give you five hundred pounds: — and now what 
will you do with it?" " Oh," fays the porter, " I will 
foon tell you. what I will do with it : F.irlt, I will have a 
pint of ale, and a toaft and nutmeg, every morning for my 
breakfaft." " Welt; and what time will you get up ?" " Oh, 
I have been ufed to be up at five or fix o'clock, fo I will 
do that now." " Well, what will you do after breakfaft ?" 
w Why, I will fetch a walk till dinner." " And what will 
you have for dufner?" -_" Why, I. will have a good din- 
ner ; I will have good roaft and boiled beef, and fome car- 
rots and greens—- and 1 will have a full pot every day — 
and then I will fmoke a pipe." " Well, and then, per- 
haps, you will take a nap ?" " May be I may — no, 1 will 
not take a nap; 1 will fetch another walk till fupper." 
" Well, and what will you have for fupper ?" " I danot 
know — I will have more beef, if I am hungry ; or.e'iTe I 
will have a Welch rabbit, and another full pot of beer," — ■ 
" Well, and then r" — " Why then I will go to bed, to be 
; fore." "> Pray, how much now may you earn a week by 
your bufmefs ?." "Why, mailer, I can make you eighteen 
millings a week." " Will not you be tired now, do you 
think, after a little while, in doing nothing every day V* 
" I do not know, mailer ; 1 have been thinking fo." " Well 
then, let me propofe a fcheme to you/' " With all my 
beart, mafter." 5t Cannot you do all this every day, as 
you are, and employ your time into the bargain ?" " Why, 
■ : - - really 



Chap. XII. NARRATIVE PIECES. if 

really, fo I can, mailer, I think ; and fo take your five hun- 
dred pounds again, and thank you." Richardson. 

CHAP. XII. 

GENEALOGY OF TASTE. 
In a cave of a mountain in the ifland of Crete dwelt & 
nymph called Contemplation, fprung, as the mythologies 
report, from Jupiter, the greatefl of the Gods ; for, accord- 
ing to. their accounts, The was conceived and leapt forth 
from the brain of her celeitial parent, as Pallas did, whilil 
he was deeply attentive in beholding the beauties of the 
creation. In this facred retirement the nymph had lived 
many ages, y, hither feveral ancient poets^ heroes, philofo- 
phers, and legiflators, frequently reforted ; for r no one eve? 
left her without receiving the utmoft happinefs from hep 
divine precepts. As Apollo was wandering one day over th© 
top of this mountain, he chanced to light upon this hea- 
venly maid, whilil me was bulled in her ufual employment 
of meditating on this ftupendous fyftem, and the divine 
perfections of the great Creator of the world. Smit witK 
her charms, he immediately defcended into the cave; and,, 
having enjoyed her, fhe bore him a fon, whom the god 
named Eudoxus, alluding to the noble ideas which filled 
the mother's mind when he firft beheld her. 

It is faid, as the nymph Contemplation was one night 
counting the flars, and defcribing on the fand with a wand ^ 
their different ntuations and motions, having left the child 
not far off on a bed of violets, that the nightingale came 
and covered him with laurel leaves, and lulled him tofleep 
with the melody of her fong,foftly modulated to the ten- ' 
der ear of the lifteoing infant. About this time the Del- 
phian Oracle declared, that a ray of light was defcended 
from the Sun, and, being feparated from that mighty lumi- 
nary, mould be fpread all over Greece, Italy, and part of 
Afia Minor, for ma^r ages. When Eudoxus had palled the 
years of childhood, Apollo being defirous not only to in- 
ft met him in the abitrufer knowledge of his mother, but 

• to 



18 NARRATIVE PIFXES. Book I. 

to unite in his education a thorough relifh of fuch other 
arts and fciences as might render him a benefactor to 
mankind in general, and his favourite nation the Greeks 
in particular, he took the boy to his own beloved feat of 
retirement, and committed his darling charge to the care 
of the Nine Mufes, and their filters the heavenly Graces. 
Mere Eudoxus was irnirucled, 'iirft, how the great Archi- 
tect of the creation divided the warring elements, and 
out of chaos formed by his plaftic mandate the unmea- 
furable frame of this ftupendous univerfe : next, how the 
refulgent fource of light and heat, the fun, fprung through 
the blue ferene of Heaven, and, being iixod immovable 
in the centre of all, drew round his glorious orb thofe 
inferior globes, whofe certain and unerring courfes, in 
unchangeable periods of time,' form that ethereal harmo- 
ny, imperceptible to all beings but the. inhabitants of Hea- 
ven. Then he was told how the oblique poiition of this 
our earth in its annual nrogrefs caufed the delightful re- 
volutions of feafons ; how the fGft descending rains and 
genial warmth of Spring opened the relenting earth, called 
forth the infant buds, and afterwards unfolded all the 
vegetable pride of flowers and bloffoms ; how the more 
perpendicular rays of heat ripened the rifing harvefl in 
Summer; how Autumn gloried in the regal hue of its 
purple vintage; and, laftly, how the fteril Winter itfelf 
was as ufeful to mortals as the other teeming feafons, by 
affording in its cold embraces the requifite reft to the ileep- 
ing vegetables, which thereby gain frefh vigour to renew 
their fpecies, and to perpetuate fuflenance to all animals, 
in the fame rotation, till time fiiall be no more. From this 
general knowledge of nature, he was led to inquire into 
the conftruction of particular parts, the bodies of animals, 
and efpecially thole of the human race; to difcover the 
caufe of pain and difeafe, and by what methods to reft ore 
them to their priftine beauty and internal harmony 
called health, and to recal the natural original fenfations 
of eafe and pleafure. When the Daughters of .Memory 

had 



CiiAV.XU. NARRATIVE PIECES. \y 

had fully intruded Eudoxus, as Apollo had directed 
them, hi every branch of this knowledge, they brought 
him by degrees to conceive that an ethereal fpirit was 
for a while united with the human body; how it was agi- 
tated by different parTions whilft in this conjunction; and 
"then after difiblution the body mould return to its kindred 
duft out of which it was formed, and the foul to a fepa- 
rate Uate of happinefs or mifery, according as it adled 
in this probationary ftate on earth. Having taken this view 
of man in the abfiract, with all his wants and infirmities, 
the MufejSj laft of all, gave their difciple a'thorough in- 
f.ght into the human race in fociety, where, by the good- 
nefs of the firft Author of all things, thefe very deficien- 
cies of individuals united the whole fpecies, and the mu- 
tual fupply of each other's wants linked together ail 
degrees into one irrefragable chain, each different part 
of which reciprocally depended upon the other, from the 
beginning to the end. They taught him too, by way of 
amuiement, the ufe and power of mufic, painting, and 
poetry; the firit of which could affuage mental agony; 
the fecend revive pafl plcafures in beholding beautiful 
objects; and the third infpire a true love of virtue, by 
perpetuating the revered memory of thofe who had 
been ornaments to eur fpecies. 

Eudoxus, being at length quite accomplished in every art 
and fcience, became enamoured of one of the Graces, who 
returned his paffion with mutual ardor. One day they took 
an opportunity, whilft the other two were bufitd in fport- 
ing with Flora and her train of Zephyrs, to gratify their 
defires in a cave of Mount Ida. The offspring of their 
embraces was a daughter, whom the fond parents named 
Calocagathia. This nymph, who inherited all the know- 
ledge of her father, and all the charms of her mother, 
became, as me grew up, the chief favourite both of gods 
and men. In the celeftial banquets flie always fat next 
to Venus, "and on earth had the honour attributed to her 
of infpiring whatever was uncommonly beautiful m 
morals, arts,, and fciencBS. Coopeu. 



JO NARRATIVE PIECES. : Book ft 

CHAP. XIII. 

DAMON AND P Y T II I A S. 

When Damon was fentenced, by Dionynus the tyrant 
of Syracufe, to die on a certain day, he prayed permiffioiv 
to retire, in the mean time, to his own country, to fetthe 
affairs of his difeonfolate family in order. This the ty- 
rant intended moft peremptorily to refufe,by granting it, 
as he conceived, on the impoffible condition of his procu- 
ring k^ne one to remain as hoftage for his return, under 
equal forfeiture of life. Pythias heard the condition, and 
did not waif; for an application on the part of Damon. He 
inftantly offered himfelf to confinement in. place of his 
friend, and Damon was accordingly fct at liberty. 

The king, and all his courtiers, were aitonimed at this 
action, as they could not account for it on any allowed- 
principles. — Self-intereft, in their judgment, was the fole 
mover of human affairs: and they looked on virtue, 
friendlhip, b.enevolence; love of country, and the like, as 
terms invented by the wife, to impofe upon the weak* 
They, therefore, imputed this ad of Pythias to the extra- 
vagance of his folly; to a defect of underftanding merely, 
and, no way, to any virtue, or good quality of heart. 

When the day of the deftined execution drew near> 
the tyrant had the curiofity to vifi-t Pythias in his dun- 
[ geon. — Having reproached him for the extravagance of 
[ his conduct, and rallied him fome time on his madnefs, 
in prefuming that Damon, by his return, would prove as 
romantic as himfelf — " My lord,"' faid Pythias, with a 
firm voice, and noble afpeel, " I would it were poffjble, 
that I might fuffer a thoufand deaths, rather than my 
friend mould fail in any article of his honour. He can- 
not fail therein, my lord. I am as confident of his vir- 
tue, as I am of my own exigence. But I pray, I befeech 
the gods, to preferve the life and integrity of my Damon 
together. Oppofe him, ye winds ! prevent the eagernefs 
and impatience of his honourable endeavours; and fuffer 

iiir-8. 



Ch.23 




.DAMO^ KPYTHIASi 



Pu.bti*?vct, ,/,- ihe^ict directs brJJbhnson in JTSRaOt OiT^Jfaniz^i 



■Dhap.XIIL NARRATIVE PIECES. 21 

l not to arrive till, by my death, I have redeemed a 

a thoufand time's of more confequence, of more efti- 

i my own; more eltimable to his lovely wife, 

recious little innocents, to his friends, to his 

. O ! leave me not to die the v.orft of deaths in 

Dionyfius was awed and confounded by 

tty of thefe fentiments, and b}^ the manner, ftill 

re affecting, in which they were uttered. He felt his 

; -heart ftruck by a flight fenie of invading truth ; but it 

r to perplex than undeceive him. He hefi- 

vould have fpoken. But he looked down: 

and retired in tilence. 

The fatal clay arrived. Pythias was brought forth; and 
walked, ami aft the guard, with a ferious but fatisfied 
to the place of -execution. Dionyfius was already 
e. He was exalted on a moving throne drawn by 
fix white horfes, and fatpenfive and attentive to the de-> 
f naeanour of the prifoner. Pythias came. He vaulted 
Ty on thefcaffold, and, beholding, for fometime, the 
iratus of death, he turned, and with a pleafing coun- 
tenance, thus addrefled the affembly: " My prayers are 
heard. The gods are propitious. You know, my 
friends, that the winds have been contrary till yefterday, 
Damon cculd not come: he could not conquer impoin- 
ities. He will be here tomorrow; and the blood 
^hich is ihed to day, fhall have ranfomed the life of my 
nd. — O ! could I erafe from your bofoms every doubt, 
-v mean fufpicion, of the honour of the man for 
am about to fufter, I mould go to my death, 
•even as I would to my bridal. Be it fufficient, in the 
'. . mean time, that my friend will be fcund noble — that his 
• truth is unimpeachable— that he will fpeedily approve it 
—that he is now on his way, hurrying on, accufing him- 
u. felf, the adverfe elements, ?.nd the-gods. But I haften 
| to prevent hisfpeed. — Executioner, do your office." As 
| , he pronounced the laft words, a buzz began to arife 
Hkcng the renicteft cf the people. A diflant voice was 

heard. 



22 NARRATIVE PIECES. Book U 

heard. The crowd caught the words; and " Stop, ftop 
the execution," was repeated by the whole affembly. A 
man came at full fpeed. The throng gave way to his ap- 
proach, lie was mounted on a fteed of foam. In an in- 
itant he was off his horfe, on the fcaffold, and held Pv~ 
thias ftraitly embraced. " You are fafe," he criech 
" you are fafe, my friend, my beloved ! the goxis be r-raif- 
rd, you are fafe ! I, now, have nothing but death' to fuf- 
fer; and I am delivered from the anguifti of tliofe re- 
proaches, which I gave myfelf, for having endangered a 
life fo much dearer than my own." Pale, and almoU 
fpeechiefs, in the arms of his Damon, Pythias replied in 
broken accents, " Fatal hafte ! —Cruel impatience !-— 
What envious powers have wrought impotiibilities in your 
iavour! — But I will not be wholly difappointed. — Since 
I cannot die to fave, I will not furvive you." 

Dionyfius heard, beheld, and confidcred ail with afto- 
nhhment. Mis heart was touched ; his eyes were opened ; 
and he could no longer refufe his aflent to truths, fo in- 
conteftably proved by facts. He defcended from his throne. 
He afcended the fcaffold. " Live ! live, ye incomparable 
pair !" he exclaimed. " Ye l;ave borne unqueftionable tef- 
timony to the exiltence of virtue ! — Live happy ! live 
renowned ! And, O ! form me by your precepts, as you 
have invited me by your example, to be worthy of the 
participation of fo facred a friendlhip." Brooke. 



CHAP. XIV. 



THE defign which gave birth to the two following tales, 
teas to inculcate on the heart fome of the principal moral 
virtues, by examples in which the tender feelings Jhould be as 
much as pojjiblc excited. Thispurpofe, it was conceived , might 
be bcjl accomplijhed by Jliort Jlories y founded on circumftances 
which might eafihj be fuppofed to happen in real life, and not 
protracted or encumbered by foreign or digre[Jhc matter. 
Though the author has at prefent only made the following 
-*~ . attempt 



Chap. XIV. NARRATIVE PIECES. && 

attempt towards the execution of his plan, it was prcfumed 
that thcfe Specimens, in their prefcnt detached jorm> might 
be no unacceptable article in this collection* 



§ 1; 

FILIAL DUT Y. 

Mr. Hastings was a reputable tradefman in a con- 
nderaWe country town. He married young, and had a 
numerous family, over whom, as his temper was hafty 
and ungovernable, he exercifed the paternal authority 
with harlhnefs and caprice. His wife, a pattern of 
female mildneis and gentlenefs, made it her fole ftudy, 
by every foftening and conciliatory art, to keep her 
bufband in good humour with herfelf and her children, 
but too often failed in both. 

Charles, their eldeil fori, liad.one of thofe difpofitions, 
which, though eafily managed by prudent and gentle me- 
thods, always revolt againft the exertions of paffionate and 
rigorous authority. It was therefore impolnble, that he 
mould avoid frequent and angry difputes with his father, 
whole fiernnefs and feverity he returned with fallen un- 
yielding obftinacy. Thefe unhappy contelts acquired 
fuch additional force with increafing years, that when 
the youth had reached the age of fifteen, his father, in 
confequence of a violent quarrel, in which lie could not 
bring him to fubmiffion, turned him out of doors, with 
an injunction riever to fee his face again. 

The lad's fpirit was too high to render a repetition of the 
command neceflary. Unprovided as he was, he fet out im- 
mediately, on foot, for London; where arriving, after 
much h dfliip and fatigue, he found out an Eait-India 
captain with whom his lather had fome acquaintance, 
and, after much folicitation, obtained leave to accompa- 
ny hii.i in a voyage which commenced in a few days. 
• Exafperated as r. ITaftings was, he could not help feel- 
ing coniiderable regret, on finding that his ion had fo well 

obeyed 



24 NARRATIVE PIECES.. Book I. 

obeyed the command which his paffion had dictated ; and 
the mother, for whom the youtji had always teflified the 
greateft affection and refpect, was long inconfoiabie. From 
all their inquiries, they were only able to learn that their 
fon was gone to fea, but to what part, or in what fituation, 
they could never. difcover. 

Tothiscaufeofdiftrefswasfoon added that of a decline 
In their circumftances, owing to repeated lories in trade. 
After the ineffectual itruggle of a few years, they were ob- 
liged to retire to a fmall houfe in a neighbouring village, 
where, confumed by grief, with health and fpirits broken, 
they brought up their family in indigence and obfeurity. 

One advantage, however, accrued to Mr. Haftingsfrom 
his misfortunes. His temper was gradually foftened ; his 
jpafiions fubfided; he attempted to alleviate by kindnefs 
the fuiferings of his partners in affliction, and behaved with 
.she greateft tendernefs and regard to his wife, of whofe 
amiable qualities he became every day more fenfible. 

Charles, in the mean time-, was palling through a variety 
of fortune. His firft fetting out was very unfavourable. 
The captain, to whom he had greatly recommended him- 
' f elf by his affiduities, died on the paffage ; and he was fet 
on more at Madras, without money, without a patron, 
-or a friend. 

He was alnioft ready to perifh for want, when an opu- 
lent merchant'of the factory took companion on him, and 
carried him to his houfe. After experiencing his diligence 
and fidelity for fome time in a very low itation, the gentle- 
man advanced him to his counting-houfe, and initiated 
him into the commercial bullnefs of the fettlement. 

During a ihort probation in this office, the youth exhi- 
bited fuch tokens of capacity, that he was thought a proper 
perfon to be fent to adiftance up the country, to a trading 
poft of fome confequence.. He here managed fome difficult 
and important concerns with lb much addrefs,and acted on 
ibme critical emergencies with fuch propriety and refolu- 
tion, that he acquired the confidence of the whole factory, 

- He 



Chap. XIV. NAUR ATI VE PIECES. 25 

He was foon promoted to a lucrative and honourable 
itation, and began to make a fortune with the rapidity 
peculiar to that country. 

The imprefilon of injury with which he had left his fa- 
ther's houfc, and the fubfequent hardfliips he underwent, 
for a long time ftifted every emotion of filial affecl 
never thought of home but as the fcene of fevere s i 
merited chafiifement, and refo'Ived never to return to it 
without a full acknowledgement of the injuftice of his ex- 
•pulfion. By degrees, however, as better profpects opened 
upon him, his heart began to relent. He melted at the 
recollection of the uniform kihdnefs of his mother, and 
the playful endearments of his brothers anp! hirers. He 
even forered excufes for his father's feverity, and con- 
demned his own obftinacyas, atlealt, equally blamable. 
He grew lb uneafy under thefe impreffions, that not all the 
flattering profpects before him could induce him to delay 
any longer an interview which he fo ardently deiired. He 
•collected allhis property, and took his parTuge for England, 
where he arrived fafe, after an abfenoe of nine years. 

On his landing, he met with a townfman, who informed 
him of the melarichoIy*ehange'in his father's fituation. 
With a heart agitated by every tender emotion, he in- 
irantiy fet off for the place of their abode, 

It was towards the approach of evening, when the un- 
happy couple, in melancholy defpandence, fat by their 
gloomy lire. A letter which Mr.IIaftmgs had that day 
received from the landlord of his little habitation,to whom 
lie was fomewhat in arrear, threw more than ufual dejec- 
tion over the family. Holding the letter in his hand, 
**"What mall vie do?" faid he — "he threatens to turn us 
* out of doors — Unfeeling man! But how can I expect 
" more mercy from a itranger than I ihowed to my own 
54 lbn?" The refleclionwas too much for Mrs. Haftings 
to bear— fire wrung her hands—fobbed, and wept bitterly. 
Not a thought of their prefent fituation dwelt on her 



mind — lire only felt for her long-loft foil. 



The 



NARRATIVE PIECES. Book I; 

ltl}£ eldeft daughter, whole elegance of form was ill con- 
::-iied by the meannefs of her drefs, went up to her mo- 
ther, and while the fympathetic tears trickled down her 
cheeks, locked a hand in hers, and with the other fup- 
ported her head. The father fighed from the bottom of 
his heart; and two youths, his eldelt remaining fons, hung 
over the mournful icene with looks of fettled melancholy. 

Borne of the younger children, as yet unconfcious of 
tforrew, were feated round the door. They ran in with 
the news that a chaiiehad Hopped before the houfe, and 
a tine gentleman was getting out of it. He entered a mo- 
ment after, when, on viewing the group before him, he 
Jiad juil ftrength to ftagger to a chair, and fainted. 

The family crowded round him, and the mother, look- 
ing eagerly in his face, cried — " My fon ! my fon !" and 
funk dow n befule him. The father flood awhile, with his 
hands clafped iiiflupid aftonifhment — then dropped on his 
knee, and exclaimed, " Heaven, I thank thee !" He then 
sflew to his fon, took him in his arms, and by his tender 
embraces recalled him to life. His recolkcaon no 
fooner returned, than he threw himfelf at his lather's 
feet, and afked ibrgivenefs. " Forgive thee, Charles \" 
laid the father — " it is I, my child, who ought to intreat 
" forgiveneis for the cruel injury I did thee." He then 
raifed him, and again clafped him in his arms, bedew- 
ing his face with many tears. 

The mother, in the meantime, lay fenfeiefs in the arms 
of her daughter. — Tlie reft of the family, confufed and 
affrighted, knew not what to think of the fcene, and the 
little ones began to cry aloud for their mother, -who, in- 
deed, was to all appearance dead. It was long before 
the amduitiesof her fon and hufhand produced anyligns 
of returning life; and when her eyes opened .on the ob- 
ject they lia-d fo long deiired to fee, the impretlion proved 
again too ftroug, and violent fits fucceeded to fainting. 
She was carried to bed, where by degrees fhe recovered 
fertility enough to behold and embrace her fon. All the 
< reft 



Chap. XIV. NARRATIVE PIECES. 07 

reft of the family, by turns, iucceeded to the embraces 
of their brother; and the eldeit filter, who eafily recol- 
lected the beloved companion of her youti), exhibited 
marks of the livelieft feniibility. 

After theiirlt tender greetings and inquiries were over, 
Charles briefly related to his parents the various events 
tWt had befallen him — ibftening, however, the diftvelT- 
ful parts, left he fhould renew fenfations already too 
painful. He concluded with acquainting them, that all 
he had acquired was theirs — that he gave the whole to 
their difpofal, and fhould wnly confider himfelf as a. 
fharer with the reft of the children. 

The generolity and lilial piety of this propofal excited 
their warmelt admiration, and oeeauoned no fmall com- 
punction in the father for his treatment of fnch a fon, 
He would not accept the offer in its full extent; but, 
borrowing a confiderable fhare of his fon's property, aflb- 
ciated him with himfelf in a mercantile concern, which 
enabled him to provide handfomely for the reft of the fa- 
mily, and to pal's the reft of his days in eafe and content. 



PATERNAL FORGIVENESS. 

J:7 the Weft of England lived Mr. Spencer, a gentleman 
of handfome fortune, who was left a widower at an early 
a?-: with one infant daughter. The only confolation he 
felt, after the lofs of a partner whom he entirely loved, 
w«if m the contemplation of the opening charms and 
grace of iris little Maria, who foon premifed to become 
all that he had fo much admired in her deceafed mother. 
He attended to her education with the utmoit care an£ 
ailiduity ; procuring her hiftructors of every kind, of ap- 
proved merit, and often taking that plealing office upca 
himfelf, for which his good ienle and knowledge emi- 
i.eiitly fitted him. 

i ifcefe advantage?, me grew up lovely and accom- 
c 2 " plifhea 



28 NARRATIVE PIECES. Book I. 

plifiied in an uncommon degree ; and feemed in every 
refpeel formed to complete the warmeft wifties of a pa- 
rent, lie accordingly doated on her with the extrerneft 
fondnefs, and formed no other defire or purpofe in life 
than that of feeing her happilyand honourably eftablifhed- 
In purmit of this defign, he did not, like molt parents, 
caft his eyes on wealth or rank. Convinced from im- 
partial obiervation, that happinefs in the conjugal ftate 
in only to be expected from a mutual confirmed relifti for 
ibber and rational felicity, the firft and greateft requifite 
he looked for in a fon-in-law was a mind formed to fteady 
and habitual virtue. The character ufually diftinguifhed 
by the title of a man of pkafurc was therefore the object 
c-f his moll rooted averfion and dread. 

Maria had received from nature that dubious gift, a 
heart of exquifite tendernefs and fenfibiljty. This, while 
it made her return her father's fondnefs with the warmeft 
filial affection, rendered her alfo liable to attachments 
of a ftronger and more dangerous kind. Unpraclifed in 
the world, me did not look at mankind with the discern- 
ing eyes of her father ; and where fhe faw an amiable ap- 
pearance, fhe was eafily led to imagine that every thing 
elfe was xorrefpondent. 

A young officer happened to be quartered in the town 
where (lie lived, who, to a mofl pleafing figure and ad- 
drefs, added a manner and converfation the moll fpecious 
and infinuating that could be conceived. He appeared 
all foftnefs and refinement, at the time that his heart 
was vitiated by the loofefl principles, and moft confirmed 
habits of debauchery. Accident gave him an opportu- 
nity of commencing an acquaintance with Maria, before 
hev father was aware of the danger to which fhe was ex- 
pofed. The impreffion he made was too ftrong to be 
eradicated; and although her father, as foon as he dif- 
covered the connection, ufed every art of perfuafion, 
and every exertion of parental authority to diflblve it, 
lie was unable to fucceed. 



M 



Chap. XIV. NARRATIVE PIECES. 2'£ 

As Mr. Spencer conftantly refufed his confent to an 
union, the unhappy confequences of which he clearly 
jforefaw, the lovers had no other rclburce to gratify their 
.pailions than an elopement. It was long before one edu- 
cated in the habits and principles that had fo carefully 
been implanted in Maria, could refolve upon fo ram and 
guilty a ftep; but at length it was determined on and ef- 
fected; and the unfortunate daughter was too late con- 
vinced of the dreadful exchange ihe had made, of the 
carefles of the mofl indulgent of parents, for the fugitive 
embraces of an abandoned and faithlefs hufband, 

Juftly inceiifed as her father was, (he durit. not attempt 
to fcften his refentrnent, which, founded upon an act of 
difobedience that overthrew all his deareft hopes, was 
likely to be ftedfaft and durable. After fufiering a variety 
of mifery, both in mind and body, in following a hur* 
band who treated her with brutal neglect, fhe buried 
him in a garrifon abroad, and returned to England in 
the utmoft indigence the third year after her marriage ? 
with a fon about two years old. 

She had the good fortune to meet with a comfortable 
afylum foon after her arrival, at the houfe of a lady who 
had been her mother's mod: intimate friend. By her me 
was treated with all the kindnefs of a parent ; and her 
benefactor, defirous. of doing her ft ill more effential fer- 
vice, refoivedto attempt the arduous ta(k of reconciling 
her to her father. As this lady's good fenfe was equal 
to her benevolence, (he was feniible that in order to fuc- 
ceed in fuch an attempt, it was not advifable to make a 
direct application, which would give.refentment an op- 
portunity of being heard as well as natural affeclion ; 
but firlt to awaken his paternal feelings, and then urge 
the fait while the impreflion was Itill warm. She had foon 
an opportunity for executing her plan. 

Mr. Spencer, who had always kept up an intercourfe of 

ftrict friendfhip with her, came to pay her a vifit. It was 

contrived that Maria's child, one of the lovelieft children 

c 3 evear 



<:o Curative pieces. book t, 

ever beheld, fliould carelefsly enter the room and play 
about among the company. It foon caught the eye of 
Mr. Spencer, who was always extremely fond of children, 
and he alked the lady to whom the charming boy be- 
longed. * To a friend of mine/' Hie nightly anfwered, 
and turned the difcourfe to fome other fubjecl. The 
child attracted more and more of Mr. Spencer's notice. 
He called it to him, fet it on his knee, and by feveral acts 
of endearment rendered it familiar with him. The boy, 
pleafed with the notice taken of him, exerted all his 
little powers of engaging, and at length entirely won the ' 
heart of his unknown grandfavber. 

The Jady of the houfe, ^fho had been an attentive- 
though lilent obferver of this progrefs of affection, now 
came up, took the little one in her arms, and killing it, 
cried, " Heaven help thee, fweet boy ! thou haft a trouble- 
**" fome world to ftruggle through !— -This little child," 
continued Ae, addreffing herfelf to Mr. Spencer, " has 
*• already loft his father — audits mother, a mofc ami able- 
u creature, is left almoft deftitute of fupport." Mr. 
Spencer was touched to the foul. He took the child 
from the lady, and embracing it with tears in his eyes — • 
** Heaven help thee, indeed r** fays he — * but if thou art 
** deftitute of all other friends, I will be a frieiil to thee ! 
M Pray, Madam, will it not be impertinent to inquire 
" more particularly into the circumftances of the lady's 
H fituation?" " She is n©w in ray houfe, Sir," fays me, 
" and will inform you herfelf." On this, flic rung a bell, 
when Maria, dreiitdin deep mourning, entered, and 
milling acrofs the room, threw herfelf at her father's feet. 
With a voice choaked in tears, me could only lay," For- 
" give me, Sir ! forgive me." He remained awhile in fui- 
penie, looking firit at his daughter, then at the child— 
at length the tears began ta now ; and catching Maria 
in his arms — c * I do forgive thee, my poor child !" fays 
he, "from my foul I do ; all that is paft ihall be forgot— 
(i this little angel makes amends for all." 

This 



Ch.i4 S.j 




Pateekil Forg-ivexess . 



Riblish'd as the .A-f directs- or J- 'Johnson .at STUmk clhJ'f'Jbfar:*.. 



Chat. XV. NARRATIVE PIECES. 

This fudden ftroke of felicity was too much for Marra : 
who fainted in her father's arms. A fcene of tender 
|ufion enfued, which however foon terMina^ed in trans- 
ports of affection and gratitude.; and the lady, whole be- 
nevolent ingenuity had brought about the happy -ewr.l. 
received the moft heart-felt fatisfa&ion fiem he* &i> 
eefe. -C 

C II A P. XV. 

THE MO N K, 

A poor monk^. of the order of St. Francis, came, into tl;f: 
room to beg fomething for his convent. T-he moment I 
ealt my eyes upon him, I was predetermined not to give 
him a fmgle foue r and accordingly 1 put my purfe-i-nto 
my pocket — buttoned it up— fet mvfeltf a little more 
upon my centre, and advanced up gravely to him : thetd 
was fomething, $ fear, forbidding -in my \&nk: I have 
his figure this moment before my eyes, and think there 
was that in it which deferved better. 

The monk, as I judged from the break in his tonfuf e, a, 
few Scattered white hairs upon his temples being all that 
remained of it, might be about feventy — -but from his 
eyes, and that fort of fire \yhich was in them, which Teemed 
more tempered by.courtefy than years, could be no mo;e 

than fixty — Truth might lie between He was certain \y 

fixty-five ; and the general air of his countenance, not- 
withstanding fomething feemed to have been planting 
wrinkles in it before their time, agreed to the account. 

It was one of thofe heads, which G uido has often paint- 
ed — mild, pale, penetrating, free from all commonplace 
ideas of fat contented ignorance looking downwards upon 
the earth — itlooked forwards; but looked as if it looked 
at fomething beyond this world. How one of his order 
came by it, Heaven above, who let it- fall upon a monk's' 
moulders, beft knows ; but it would-have fuiteda Bramin, 

c 4 and 



32 NARRATIVE PIECES. Book I, 

and had I met it upon the plains of Indoftan, I had re- 
verenced it. 

. The reft of his outline maybe given in a few ftrokes ; 
one might put it into the hands of any one to defign, for 
'twas neither elegant nor Gtherwife, but his character and 
exprefhon made it f o : it was a thin, fpare form, forae- 
tliing above the common fize. if it loft not the diinn* 
by a bend forwards in the figure — but it was the attitude 
of intreaty; and as it now (lands prefent to my imagi- 
nation, it gained more than it loft by it. 

When he had entered the room three paces, he flood 
ftill ; and laying his left hand upon his brcaft (a (lender 
white fiaff with which he journeyed being in his right) — 
when J had, got clofe up to him, he introduced himfelf 
with the little ftory of the wants of his convent, and the 
poverty of his order — and did it with fo funple a grace— 
and fuch an air of deprecation was there in the whole 
caft of his look and figure — I was bewitched not to have 
been ftruck with it. — 

A better reafon was, I had predetermined not to give 
him a fingle fous. 

— Tis very true, faid I, replying to a caft upwards 
with his eyes, with which he had concluded his addrefs— 
'tis very true — -and Heaven be their refource who have 
no other but the charity of the world, the ftock of which, 
I. fear, is no way fufficient for the many great claims 
which are hourly made upon it. 

As I pronounced the words great claims, he gave a flight 
glance with his eye downwards upon the fleeve of his tunic 
— I felt the full force of the appeal — I acknowledge it, faid 
I — a coarfe habit, and that but once in three years, with 
meagre diet — are no great matters : and the true point of 
pity is, as they can be earned in the world with io little 
induftry, that your order mould wifh to procure them by 
prefling upon a fund which is the property of the larrm,. 
$h"e blind, the aged, and the infirm : the captive who lies 
down counting over and over again the days of his af- 
flictions, 



Chap. XV. NARRATIVE PIECES. S3 

Mictions, languishes alfo for his mare of it; and had you 
been of the order of mercy, inftead of the order of St, 
Francis, poor as I am, continued I, pointing at my port- 
manteau, full cheerfully mould it have been opened to 
you for the ranfom of the unfortunate. The monk made 
me a bow — but of all others, refumed I, the unfortunate 
of our own country, furely, have the iirft rights; and I 
have left thoufands in diltrefs upon our own more. — The 
monk gave a cordial wave with his head — as much as to 
lay, No doubt, there is mifery enough in every corner of 
the world, as well as within our convent— Bfffc we dif- 
tinguifti, faid I, laying my hand upon the fleeve of his 
tunic, in return for his appeal — we diftinguifh, my good 
father ! betwixt thofe who wifh only to eat the bread of 
their own labour — and thofe who eat the bread of other 
people's, and have no other plan in life, but to get through 
it in iloth and ignorance,/or the love of God. 

The poor Francifcan made no reply; a he&ie of a mo- 
ment paffed acrofs his cheek, but could not tarry— Nature 
feemed to have done with her refentments in him; he 
mowed none — but letting his llaff fall within bis arm, he 
preifed both his hands with reiignation upon his breafr 9 
and retired'. 

My heart fmote me the moment lie fhut the door ; 

Fflia ! faid I with an air of carelefihefs, three feveral 

times —but it would not do ;• every ungracious fy liable 

I had uttered, crowded back into my imagination ; I re- 
flected, I had no right over the poor Francifcan but to 
deny him ; and that the punifhment of that was enough 
to the difappointed, without the addition of unkind lan- 
guage — I confidered his gray hairs — his courteous figure 
feemed to reenter, and gently aft: me what injury he had 
done me ? and why I could ufe him thus ? — I would 
have given twenty livres for an advocate- — I have be^ 
haved very ill, faid I within myfelf ; but I have only ju-il 
fet out upon my travels; and mall learn better manners 
as I get along. Stern*. 

e 5- 



34 NARRATIVE PIECES. Book I. 

CHAP. XVI. 
The PROGRESS oi DISCONTENT, 

When now mature in claftic knowledge. 
The joyful youth is fent to college, 
His father comes, a vicar plain, 
At Oxford bred— in Anna's reign y 
And thus in form of humble fuitof 
Bowing accofts a reverend tutor: 
" ^ir, I'm a Glo'ftermire divine, 

* And this my elded fon of nine ; 
c< My wife's ambition and my own 

* Was that this child mould wear a £Own : 
" I'll warrant that his good behaviour 

" Will juftify your future favour: 

" And for his parts, to tell the truth r 

H My fon 's a very forward youth ; 

u Has Horace all by heart — you'd wonder — 

*' And mouths out Homer's Greek like thunder. 

" If you'd examine- — and admit him, 

" A fcholarfhip would nicely fit him, 

* That he fucceeds 'tis ten to one ; 

M Your vote and intereft, Sir !— «Tis done/' 
Our pupil's hopes, though twice defeated-, 
Aire with a fcholarihip completed. 
A fcholarfhip but half maintains, 
And College rules are heavy chains : 
In garret dark he fmokes and puns, 
A prey to discipline and duns ; 
And now intent on new defigns, 
~3ighs for a fellowfhip — and fines. 
When nine full tedious winters paft, 
That utmoft wifh is crown'd at laft : 
But the rich prize no fooner got, 
Again he quarrels with his lot : 
*« Thefe fellowships are pretty things, 

* We live indeed like petty kings : 

" Bat 



Chap. XVT. NARRATIVE PIECES: 8 

" But who can bear to wafte his whole age 
** Amid the dulnefc of a college, 
" Debarr'd the common joys cf life, 
" And that prime blifs — a loving wife ! 
« Oh, what's a table richly (bread, 
u Without a woman at its head ! 
" Would fome fiiug benefice but fall, 
" Ye feafts, ye dinners ! farewell all ! 
" To offices I'd bid adieu, 
«* Of dean, vice-praef.— of burfar too ; 
u Come, joys, that rural quiet yields, 
" Come, tithes, and houfe, and fruitful fields I" 

Too fond of liberty and eafe 
A patron's vanity to pleaiVy 
Long time he watctes, and by ftealth, 
Each frail incumbent's doubtful health; 
At length — and in his fortieth year, 
A living drops-— two hundred clear ! 
With breait elate beyond expreincn, 
lie hurries down to take poiTeillob, 
With rapture views the iweet retreat— 
" What a convenient houfe i how nottt! 
•' For fuel here's fufhcient wood: 
** Pray God the cellars may be good ! 
* The garden — that- mult be new plann'd— * 
" Shall thefe old-falhion'd yew-trees flanri ? 
<* O'er yonder vacant plot mall rife 
" The flovr'ry Ihrub of thoufand dies:— 
i( Yon wall, that feels the fouthem ray, 
*'" Shall bluih, with ruddy fruitage gay ; 
*' Whilft thick beneath its afpecr warm, 
" O'er well-rang'd hives the bees fh all fwaTtaf 
" From which, ere long, of golden gleam 
" Metheglin's lufcious juice mall ftream:- 
" This awkward hut o'ergrown with ivy ; 
k We'll alter to a modem privy: •• • • "•• 

c 6 <* X>> 



3o NARRATIVE PIECES. Book L 

" Up yon green Hope, of hazels trim, 
" An avenue fo cool and dim, 
" Shall to an arbour, at the end,, 
" In fpite of gout, entice a friend. 
" My predeceffor lov'd devotion— 
t( But of a garden had no notion." 

Continuing this fantaftic farce on„. 
He now commences country paribn. 
To make his character entire, 
He weds — a coufin of the 'fquire ; 
Not over-weighty in the purfe, 
But many doctors have done worfe : 
And though fhe boafts no charms divine,. 
Yet fhe can carve, and make bireh wine. 
Thus fixt, content he taps his barrel, 
Exhorts his neighbours not to quarrel : 
Finds his church-wardens have difcerning. 
Both in good liquor, and good learning : 
With tithes his barns replete he fees, 
And chuckles o'er his furplice-fees; 
Studies to find out latent dues, 
And regulates the flate of pews : 
Rides a fleek mare with purple houfing,, 
To mare the monthly club's caroufmg; 
Of Oxford pranks facetious tells, 
And — but on Sundays — rhears no bells f 
Sends prefents of his choicefl fruit, 
And prunes himfelf each faplefs fhoot. 
Plants cauliflowers, and boafts to rear 
The earlieft melons of the year \ 
Thinks alteration charming work is, 
Keeps Bantam cocks, and feeds his turkeys 5 
Builds in his copfe a favourite bench, 
And ftores the pond with carp and tench. 
But, ah ! too foon his thoughtlefs breail 
" By cares domeftic is oppreft \ 



And 



Chap. XVII. NARRATIVE PIECES. 3?, 

And -a third butcher's bill and brewing 
Threaten inevitable ruin ; 
For children frefh expenfes yet, 
And Dicky now for fchool is fit. 
" Why did I fell my college life 
" (He cries) for benefice and wife ? 
" Return, ye days ! when endlefs pleafur? 
" I found m reading, or in leifure ! 
* " When calm around the common room. 
" I puff'd my daily pipe's perfume I 
" Rode for a ftomach, and inspected, 
" At annual bottlings, corks felecied : 
" And din'd untax'd, untroubled, under 
" The portrait of our pious founder ! 
" When impofitions were fupplied 
" To light my pipe — or footh my pride — 
" No cares were then- for forward peafe y 
" A yearly-longing wife to pleafe. 
" My thoughts no chrift'ning dinner croft, 
" No children cried for butter'd to aft ; 
" And every night I went to bed, 
u Without a modus in my head '.." 

Oh ! trifling head, and fickle heart ! 
Chagrin' d at whatibe'er thou art; 
A dupe to follies yet untried, 
And fick. of pleafures fcarce enjoy 'd I 
Each prize poiTefs'd, thy traniport ceafes, 
And in purfuit alone it pleafes. 

C H A P. XVII. 
The TOWN and COUNTRY MICE, 
Once on a time, fo runs the fable, 
A country moufe, right, hofpitable, 
Receiv'd a town moufe at his board, 
Jult as a farmer might a lord. 
A frugal moufe upon the whole, 
Yet lov'd his friend, and had a foul, 

Knew 



38 NARRATIVE PIECES. Book I. 

Knew what was handfome, and would do't, 

On j uft occafion, conte qui coute. 

He brought him bacon, nothing lean, 

Pudding, that might have pleas'd a dean ; 

Cheefe, fuch as men in Suffolk make. 

But wifh'd it Stilton for his fake ; 

Yet, to his gueft tfacf no way fparing, 

He eat himfelf the rind and paring. 

Our courtier fcarce could touch a bit. 

But ihow'd his breeding and his wit; 

He did his beft to feem to eat, 

And cried,. " I vow you're mighty neat'.- 

" But lord, my friend, this favage feme ! 

'* For God's fake, come and live with men , 

" Confider, mice, like men r mud die, 

" Both fmall and great, both you and I : 

'* Then fpend your life in joy and fport ; 

" This doctrine,- friend, I learn at court/' 
The verieft hermit in the nation 

May yield, God knows, to ftrong temptation, 
Aw r ay they come, thro' thick and thin, 
To a tall houfe near Lineolns-Inn : 
'Twas on the night of a debate, 

When all their lordfhips had fat late. 

Behold the place, where if a poet 
Shin'd in description, he might Ihow it *- 
Tell how the moon-beam trembling fall*, 
And tips with filver all the walls ; 
Palladian walls, Venetian doors, 
Grotefco roofs, and ftucco floors:. 
But let it y in a word, be faid,; v 

The moon was up, and men abed, 
The napkins white, the carpet red : ) 

The guefts withdrawn had left the treat, 
And down the mice fate, tcte-d-ttte. 

Our-eourtier walks from diih to dim, 
Taftes for his friend of fowl and fiifr; 

Tells 



Chap. XVIII. NARRATIVE PIECES. 39 

Tells all their names, lays down the law, 
u Que ca efi bon ! Ah goutez ca ! 
" That jelly *s rich, this malmfey healing, 
" Pray, dip your whilkers and your tail in" 
Was ever fuc'h a happy fwain f 
lie fluffs and fwills, and fluffs again. 
H I'm quite aftiam'd — 'tis mighty rude 
; * To eat fo much — but all's lb good. 
" I have a thoufand thanks to give — 
" My lord alone knows how to live." 
No fooner faid, but from the hall 
Hum chaplain, butler, dogs and all ; 
" A rat I a rat ! clap to the door" — ■ 
The cat comes bouncing on the floor, 
O, for the heart of Homer's miee y 
Or gods to fave them in a trice ! — 
" An't pleafe your honour," quoth the peafant, 
" This feme deffert is not fo pleafant : 
" Give me again my hollow tree, 
" A cruft ©f bread, and liberty !" Pope, 

CHAP. XVIII. 
THE THREE WARNINGS, 

The tree of deepeft root is found 
Lead willing ftill to quit the ground ; 
'Twas therefore faid, by ancient fages, 

That love of life increas'd with years 
So much, that in our latter fhrges, 
When pains grow (harp,, and ficknefs rages 3 

The greatest love of life appears. 

This great affeclion to believe, 
Which all confefs, but few perceive, 
If old affertions can't prevail, 
Be pleas'd to hear a modern tale, 

When 



40 NARRATIVE PIECES. Bowc I. 

When fports went round, and all were gay 
On neighbour Dobfon's wedding-day, 
Death call'd afide the joeund groom 
With him into another room : 
And looking grave, " You niuft," fays he, : 
" Quit your fweet bride, and eome with me." 

" With you, and quit my Sufan's fide ! 
" With you !" the haplefs hufband cried : 
" Young as I am ? 'tis monftrous hard ! 
" Betides, in truth, I'm not prepar'd : 
" My thoughts on other matters go, 
u This is my wedding-night, you know." 

What more he urg'd I have not heard, 
His reafons could not well be ftronger; 

So Death the poor delinquent fpar'd, 
And left to live a little longer. 

Yet calling up a ferious look, 
His hour-glafs trembled while he fpoke, 
** Neighbour," he faid, I* farewell ! No more 
"• Shall death difturb your mirthful hour : 
ft And farther, to avoid all blame 
" Of -cruelty upon my name, 
" To give you time for preparation,. 
" And fit you for your future ilation, 
" Three feveral warnings you fhall have r 
" Before } ; ou ; re fummon'd to the grave ; 
" Willing for once I'll quit my prey, 

" And grant a kind reprieve ; 
" In hopes you'll have no more to fay, 
" But, when I call again this way, 

" Well pleas'd, ike world will leave." 
To thefe conditions both confented, 
And parted perfectly contented. - 



What next the hero of cur tale befel, 
How long he livcl, how wife, how well, 



How 



Chap. XVIII. NARRATIVE PIECES. 4J 

How roundly he purler d his courfe, 
And fmok'd his pipe,, and ftrok'd his horfe, 

The -willing mule mall teil : 
He chaffer' d then, he bought, he fold. 
Nor once perceiv'd his growing old, 

Nor thought of death as near ; 
His friends not falfe, his wife no ihrew r 
Many his gains, his children few, 

lie pafs'd his hours in peace ; 
But while he view'd his wealth increafe, 
While thus along Life's dully road 
The beaten track content he trod, 
Old Time, whole hafte no mortal fpares. N 
Uncall'd, unheeded, unawares, 

Brought on his eightieth year. " . 

And now one night in mufmg mocd, 
As ail alone he late, 
Th' unwelcome meflenger of Fate 

Once more before him itcocl. 

Half kill'd with anger and furprife, 
" So foon returned !" old Dobfon cries, 

" So foon, d'ye call it \" Death replies i 
" Surely, my friend, you're but in jell, 

" Since I vvas here before 
" Tis fix-and-thirty years at leaft, 
"' And you are now fourfcore/* 

" So much the worfe," the clown rejoin'd; 
" To fpare the aged would be kind : 
" Befides, you promis-'d me Three Warnings, 
" Which I have look'd for nights and mornings**' 

" I know," cries Death, " that at the bell, 
u 1 feldom am a welcome gueil ; 
" But don't be captious, fiend, at lead ^ 
" I little thought you'd -Itill be able 
** To ftump -about your farm and liable; 

u Your 



42 NARRATIVE PIECES. Book I. 

" Voar yours have run to a great length) 
" I wifh you joy tho' of your ftrength." 

" Hold/'' lays the farmer, " not fo feft* 
• . " I have been lame thefe four years paft." 

" And no great wonder/' Death replies, 
" However, 3-011 Hill keep your eyes ^ 
" And'fure to fee one's loves and friends,. 
M For legs and arms would make amend*.'* 
" Perhaps/' fays Dobfon, " fo it might, 
" But latterly I've loft my fight/' 

" This is a mocking ftory, faith, 
" Yet there's fome comfort ft ill," fays Deaths 
" Each ft rives your fadnefs to amufe; 
" I warrant yea hear all the news/' 

" There's none/' cries he r " and if there were, 
" I'm grown fo deaf I could not hear/' 
" Nay then/' the fpe&re ftern rejoin'd, 
" If you are lame, and deaf, and blind,- 

** You've had your three fuffieient Warning* t 
" So come alocg, no more we'll part." 
He faid, and touch'd him with his dart ; 
And now old Dobibm turning pale, 

Yiekis to his fate fo ends my tale. 

Mrs.Thrale. 

CHAP, XIX, 

EDWIN and ANGELINA. 

- « 
Tuittf, gentle hermit of the dale, 

And guide my lonely way, 
To where yon taper cheers the vala 

With hofpitable ray. 

For here forlorn arid loft I tread r 

With fainting fteps and flow ;. 
Where wilds, immeafurably fpread, 

Seem length 'ning as I go. 

Forbear, 



Chap. XIX. NARRATIVE PIECES. # 

Forbear, my fon, the hermit cries, 
To tempt the dangerous gloom.; 



ftdtlJefc 



For yonder phantom «w*y fl ip* 
To lure thee to thy doom. 

Here to the houfelefs child of want, 

My door is open ftill ; 
And tho' my portion is but fcant, 

I give it with good will. 

Then turn to night, and freely /hare 

W'hate'er my cell beftows ; 
My -*»%- couch, and frugal fare, r«*ty 

My hleihng and repoie. 

No flocks that range the valley free,. 

To flaughter I condemn : 
Taught ,by that Power that .pities mc, 

I learn to pity them. 

But from the mountain's grafiy fide 

A guiltlefs feaft I bring j 
A fcrip with herbs and fruit fupplied. 

And water from the fpring. 

Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego * 
Jfijj ■ Fai » earth-born cares are wrong : 
Man wants but little here below, 
Nor wants that little lon^. 



a' 



Soft as the dew from Heaven defcends> 

His gentle accents fell : 
The modeft ftranger lowly bends, 

And follows to the cell. 

Far in a wilderness obfeure 

The lonely manfion lay: 
A refuge to the neighbouring poor, 

And ftranger led aftray. 



No- 



A-l NARRATIVE PIECES. Book I. 

No {lores beneath its humble thatch 

Reefuir'd a matter's care; 
The wicket opening with a latch 

Received the Larmrefs pair. 

vfeiSted now when bufy crowds retire 
"To revels or to reft, 
The hermit trimm'd his little fire, 
And cheer' d his pen live gee ft : 

And fpread his vegetable flore, 

And gaily preiVd, and fmil'ti ; 
And, ikiii'd in legendary Ion-, 

The lingering hours beguii : d. 

Around in fyinpathetic . mirth 

Its tricks the kitten tries ; 
The cricket chirrups on the hearth ; 
The crackling faggot flics. 

But nothing could a charm impart, 

To tooth the Granger's woe; 
Tor grief wan heavy at bis heart, 

And tears began to flow. 

His rifing cares the hermit Tpied, 

With aniweringeareo oppreft: 
And whence, unhappy youth, he cried, 

The fcrrows of thy breaft ? 

From better habitation fpurn'd, 

Reluctant doit thou rove; 
Or grieve for friendfhip unreturn'd, 
• Or unregarded love ? 

Alas ! the joys that fortune brings, 

Are tnlling* and decay; 
And thi>fe, vvho prize the paltry things,. 

More trilling it-ill than they. 



CiiAf . XIX. NARRATIVE PIECES. U 

And what is friendihip but a name, 

A charm that lulls to fleep ; 
A made that follows wealth or fame, 

But leaves the wretch to weep ? 

And love is ftill-an emptier found, 

The-modern fair one's jefl : 
On earth unfeen, or only found 

To warm the turtle's neft. 

For fhame, fond youth ; thy furrows huih ; 

And fpurn the fex,-he laid : 
But while he (poke, a rifing bl.ufh 

His love-lorn gueit betray'd. 

Sorpris'd ! he fees tiew beauties rife, 

Swift mantling to the view ; 
Like colours o'er the morning ikies, 

As bright, as transient too. 

The baflrful look, the rifing breait, 

Alternate fpread alarms : 
The lovely" Granger Hands confeft 

x\ maid in all her charms. 

And, ah! forgive a ftranger rude, 

A wretch forlorn, (lie cried ; 
Whofe feet unhallow'd thus intrude, 

Where Heaven and you reude. 

But let a maid thy pity fhare, 

"Whom love has taught to ftray ; 
Who feeks for reft,- but finds defpair 

Companion of her way. 

My father liv'd befide the Tyne ; 

A wealthy lord was he ; 
And all his wealth was marked for mine : 

He had but only me. 



To 



AG . NARRATIVE PIECES. Book I. 

. To win me from his tender arras, 
Unnumber'd fuitors came ; 
Who prais'd me for imputed charms, 
And felt or feiga'd a flame. 

Each hour the mercenary crowd, 

With richeft preiioute tirove : jbfwjpens 

Among the reft, young Edwin bow'd, 
But never talk'd of love. 

In humble fimpleft habit clad, 

No wealth nor power had he ; 
Wifdom and worth were all he had ; 

But thefe were all to me. 

The bloffom opening to the day, 

The dew of Heaven refin'd, 
Could nought of purity difplay, 

To emulate his mind. 

The dew, the bloflbm on the tree, 

With charms inconftant fliine ; 
Their charms were his, but, woe is me ! 

■yhoir conrtancy was mine. Ik in^OizStanCL 

Tor ftill I tried each fickle art, 

Importunate and vain, 
And while hispaflion toueh'd my heart* 

I triumph' d in his pain. 

Till, quite dejected with my fcorn, 

He left me to my pride; 
And fought a folitude forlorn, 

In fecret where he died. 

But mine the forrow, mine the fault, 

And well my life fhall pay; 
I'll feek the folitude he fought, 

And ftretch me where he lay. 

And 



Chap. XX. NARRATIVE PIECES. \7 

And there forlorn, defpairing, hid, 

I'll lay me down and die ; 
'Twas fo for me that Edwin did, 

And fo for Ik will I. 

Forbid it, Heaven, the hermit cried, 

And clafp'd her to his breaft : 
The wondering fair one turn'd to chide; 

'Twas Edwin's felf that preft. 

Turn, Angelina, ever dear, 

My charmer, turn to fee 
Thy own, thy long-loll Edwin here, 

Reitor'd to love and thee. 

Thus let me hold thee to my heart, 

And every care refign : 
And iliall we never, never part, 

My life — my all that's mine ? 

No, never from this hour to part, 

We'll live and love fo true ; 
v The figh that rends thy conftant heart, 
Sh.aU break -thy Edwin's too. 

Goldsmith. 

CHAP. XX. 
THE BLACKBIRDS. 

J lie fun had chas'd the mountain fnow, 

And kindly loos'd the frozen foil, 
The melting tireams began to flow, 

And ploughmen urg'd their annual toil. 

"Twas then, amid the vocal throng 

Whom nature wakes to mirth and love, 

A blackbird rais'd his am'rous fong, 
And thus it echo'd through the grove. 

" O fuireft 



45 NARRATIVE PIECES. Book 

" O fairefi 'd tram! 

For whom 1 fing, tor whom I burn, 
Attend with pity to my ftrain, 

And grant my love a kind return. 

" For fee, the wintry ftorms are flown, 

And gentle Zephyrs fan the air; 
Let us the genial influence own, 

Let us the vernal paftirnemare. 

" The raven plumes his jetty wing, 

To pleafe his croaking paramour; 
The larks refponfive Attics fing ; 

And tell their paffioii as they (bar. 

** But truft me, love, the raven's win.': 

Is not to be compar'd with mine : 
Nor can the lark fo fwcetly fing 

As I, who ftrength with fweelnefs join, 

41 O, let me all thy fteps attend ! 

I'll point new treafures to thy fight ; 
Whether the grove thy with befriend, 

Or hedge-rows green, or meadows bright. 

*' I'll fhow my love the cleareft rill, 

VVhofe ftreams among the pebbles ftray, 

Thefe will we fip, and fip our fill, 
Or on the flow'ry margin play. 

•" I'll lead her to the thickeft brake, 

Impervious to the fchool-boy's eye ; 
For her the plaifter'd neft I'll make, 

And -on her downy pinions lie. 

41 When prompted by a mother's care, 

Her v, arnith ihall form the imprifon'd young; 

The pleating tafk I'll gladly fhare, 

Or cheer her labours with my song, 
dLii'f 4 "To 



Chap. XX. NARRATIVE PIECES. 49 

41 To bring her food I'll range the fields, 

And cull the belt of every kind ; 
Whatever nature's bounty yields, 

And love's affiduous care can find. 

" And when my lovely mate would ftray 
To tafte the fummer fweets at large, 

I'll wait at home the live-long day, 
And tend with care our little charge. 

u Then prove with me the fweets of Ivoe, 

With me divide the cares of life ; 
No bum mail boaft in all the grove 

"So fond a mate, fo bleil a wife/' 

lie ceas'd his fong. The melting dame 
With foft indulgence heard- the ftrairi ; 

She felt, (he own'd a mutual flame, 
And halted to relieve his pain, 

lie led her to the nuptial bower. 
.And neftled clofely to her tide; 

fondeft bridegroom of that hour,. 
And the, the molt delighted bride. 

Next morn he wak'd her with a fong, 
" Behold," he faid, " the new-born •"■ iyj 

The lark his matin peal has rung, 
Arife, my love, and come away/' 

Together thro' the fields they ft ray 'd, 

And to the murnVring riy'lets fide; 
Renew'd their vows, and hopp'd and plav'd, 

With honeft joy and decent pride, 

WLc .21. oji ! with grief the Mufe relates 

The mournful fequel of my tale; 
Sent by an order from the fates, 

A gunner met them in. the vale : 

I> Al^m'a 



50 NARRATIVE -'PIECES. Book :I. 

Alarm' d the lover cry'd, " My dear, 

Hafte, hafte away, from -danger fly; 
Here, gunner, point thy thunder here; 

O, 1'pare my love, and let me die." 

At liim the gunner took his aim ; 

His aim, alas ! was all too true ■ 
O, had'lje chofe fome other game ! 

Or fliot— as he was wont to do ! 

. Divided pair ! forgive the wrong, 1 

While I with tears your fate rehcarfe ; 
I'll join the widow's plaintive fong, 
And fave the lover in my verfe. 

Jaoo. 

CHAP. XXI. 

T H E N U N. 

With each perfection dawning on her mind, 
All beauty's treafure opening on her cheek, 
Each flatt'ring hope liibdued, each with refign'd, 
Does gay Ophelia this lone mantion feek. 

Say, gentle maid, what prompts thee to forfake 
The paths, thy birth and fortune ftrew with flowers .? 
Through nature's kind endearing ties to break, 
And wafte in cloifier'd walls thy pennve hours ? 

Let fober thought retrain thine erring zeal, 
That guides thy footfteps to the veflal gate, * 
Left thy foft heart (this friendfhip bids reveal) 
Like mine unbleft, fhould mourn like mine too liite, 

Does fome angelic lonely-whifp'ring jyoice, 
Some facred iropulfe, or i'ome dream divine, 
Approve the dictates of thy early choice-— 
Approach with confidence the awful fhrhie. 

There 



Chap: XXI. NARRATIVE PIECES. 51 

There kneeling at yon altar's marble bale 
(While ftreams of rapture from thine eyelids fteal, 
And fmiling Heaven illumes thy foul with grace) 
Prcmounee the vow, thou never can'ft repeal. 

Yet if milled by falfe-entitled friends, 
Who fay, " That peace, with all her comely train, 
" From ftarry regions to this clime defcends, 
" Smooths every frown, and foftens every pain: 

" That veitals tread contentment's flowery lawn, 

" Approv'd of innocence, by health careft: 

il That robed in colours bright, by fancy drawn, 

" Celeftial hope fits fmiling at their breaft : 

Sufpe£t their fyren long and artful ftyle, 

Their pleaiing founds fome treach'rous thought conceal ! 

Full oft does pride with fainted voice beguile, 

And fordid iat'reft wear the mafk of zeal. 

A tyrant abbcfs here perchance may reign, 
Who, fond of power, affects th' imperial nod, 
Looks down dikrainful on her female train, " 
And rules the cloifter with an iron rod. 

Reflection fickens at the livelong tie, 
Back-glancing memory acts her bufy part, 
Irs charms the world unfolds to fancy's eye, 
Atid lheds allurement on the wiihful heart, 

Lo ! Difcord enters at the faered porch, 
Rage in her frown, and terrour on her creft : 
]£ven at the hallow'd lamp Cne lights her torch., 
And holds it naming to each virgin breaft ' 

But iince the legends of monaftic blifs 
By fraud are fabled, and by youth belleVd, 
Unbought experience learn from my diftrefs, 
O, mark my lot, and be no more deceiv'd. ! 

» 2 Three 



$? NARRATIVE PJUdfiS. ,k I. 

Tbrefe luftres tearce with hafty wing were ffed, 
When I was torn ho;n every weeping frieiid, 
A tliQqightfejCfi viajjii to the ttmple led, 
And (blufh ye | &rents I) by a lather's hand. 

Yet then, what foiemn i'ecnes deceiv'cl mv choice! 
The peeling Organ's animating found, 
The choral virgins 1 captivating voice, 
The blading altar, and the priefts around ; 

The train of yo.ut.hs array'd in pureft white, 
Who fcattcr'o! myrtles as I pafs'd along ; 
The thouiand lamps that pour'd a flood of light, 
The kifs of peace from all the vellal throng : 

The golden cenfers tofs'd with graceful hand, 
Whofe fragrant breath Arabian odour flic d ; 
Of meek-eyed novices the circling band, 
With blooming chaplets wove around their head. 

My willing foul was caught in rapture's flame. 
While facred ardour gTow'd jtn every vein; 
Methcught applauding angels fung my name, 
And heaven's unfullied glories gilt the fane. 

This temporary tranfport foon expii'd, 
My drooping heart confefs'd a dreadful void : 
E'er fmce, alas ! abandoned, uninfpir'd, 
I tread this dome to mifery allied. 

No wakening joy informs my fullen breaft, 
Thro' opening fkies no radiant feraph fmiles, 
No faint .defcends to foot-he my foul to reft, 
No dream or blifs the dreary night beguiles. 

Here haggard difcontent frill haunts my vie'> . 
The fomhre genius reigns in every place, 
Arrays each virtue in the darkeft hue, 
Chills every prayer,- and cancels every grace- 

I meet 



Chap, XXI. NARRATIVE PIECES. 53 

J meet her ever in the cheerlefs cell, 

The gloomy grotto and unfocial wood ; 

I hear her ever in the midnight, bell, 

The hollow gale, and ho arte reibunding flood, 

This caus'd a mother's tender tears to flow, 
(The fad remembrance time mall ne'er erafe) 
When, having feal'd the irrevocable vow, 
I haften'd to receive her lait embrace. 

Full well fhe then prefag'd my wretched fate. 
The unhappy moments of each future day ; 
When, lock'd within this tcrrour-fhcdding grate. 
ily joy-deierted foul would pine away. 

Yet ne'er did her maternal voice unfold 
This cloifte/d fcene in all its horror drc'ft, 
Nor did me then my trembling fteps withhold, 
When here I enter' d a reluciant giieii. 

Ah! could fne view her only child betrav'd. 
And let fubmiinon o'er her love prevail! 
The, unfeeling prieft why did fhe not upbraid, 
Forbid the vow, and rend the hov'ring veil ? 

Alas ! fhe might not — her relentlefs lord 
Had feal'd her lips, and chid her itreamiugtear; 
So anguifh in her breaft conceal'd its-hoard,. ■.. 
And all the mother funk in dumb defpair. .. i - 

But thou who own'ft a father's facred name, 
What acl impell'd thee to this ruthlefs deed;? 
What crime had forfeited my filial claim r 
And given (O Halting thought !) my heart to bleed? 

If then thy injur'd child deferve thy care, 
O, hafte and bear her from this lonefome gloom ! 
In vain : — no words can foothe his rigid ear : - 
And Gallia's laws have riveted my doom, 

D 3 Ye 



4| NARRATIVE PIECES. Rook I. 

Ye cloifter'd fair — ye peafure-hfeathing faints, 
Supprefs your taunts, and learn at length to fpare, 
Tho'/mid thefe holy walls I vent my plaints, 
And give to forrow what is due to pray'r. 

I (led not to this manfion's deep re 
To veil the liluflies of a guilty ihaine, 
The tenour of an iil-fpent life redreTs, 
And fnatch from infamy a linking name. 

Yet let me to my fate fubmitTive bow ; 
From j!*tal fymptoms, if I right conceive, 
Tins ft ream, Ophelia, has not long to flow., 
This voice to murmur, and this breafl to heave. 

Ah ! when extended on the untimely bier 
To yonder, vault this form mall be convey'd, 
ThouTt not refill's to fried one grateful tear, 
And breathe the requiem to my fleeting (hade. 

With pious footfiep join the fable train, 

As thro' the lengthening aile they take their way : 

A glimmering taper let thy hand fuftain, 

Thy foo thing voice attune the funeral lay : 

Kehold the minifter who lately gave 
The faered veil, in garb of mournful hue, 
(More frieryrdy office 1) bending o'er my grave. 
And fprmklihg my remains with hallow' d dew : 

As o'er the corfe he ftrews the rattiing duft, 
The fterneft heart will raife companion's figh ; 
Even then, no longer to his child unjuff, 
The' tears may trickle from & father's eye. 

JSRXXXQUAM. 



Chap. XXII. NARRATIVE PIECES. $1 

GHAP. XXII. 

RODOLPHO and MATILDA, 

When o*er the Alpine heights chill Winter fpreads 

His hoary mantle; when the thick' ning air 

Defcends in feathered flakes ; each profpedt now 

Mow wild, how mapelefs! Streams which us'd to flow 

With haily cnrrents, lazy creep, beneath 

Th' incumbent mow. The tall fir's loaded brancU 

Waves like the oftr-ich plume: the fleecy {faow'r 

Whirl' d in its. falling, forms unreal hills 

And faithlefs levels,- Cautioys be. his fteps, 

Who thro' thefe regions- journeys while they Wfe&te 

Their cold- and dreary ■ ft from. i-,bo-\ $ 

The ihowy piles o'erwhclm him; frequent n^m 

From parts remote their Tuilen found, is heard, 

Striking the ft&rtled ear : by eddying, winda 

Or agitating founds, the loofen'd fnow 

Fir ft mov'd, augmenting Hides, then nodding o'er 

The headlong fteep, plunge?, in air, and rolls 

With one vaft length o* ruin, to the vale . ■ '; •■ 

Aghaft beneath it the pale . traveller fees 

The falling promontory— fees : — and dies l- tk 



'Midir its fad victims, from the houfe of death 
Let me recal one true, one wretched pair 
It funk untimely to the tomb. The tale 
I've heard from fhepherds, as they pointed out 
The fpot their fiery noted, and have dropt 
For haplefs love a fympathifmg tear. 

In a lone vale,- wauYd- by th ; impetuous Arve, 
Beneath the made its talleft mountain threw, 
Matilda dwelt, the fole remaining hope 
Of old Alberto, whofe paternal farm 
Cover' d with flocks and herds fpread wide around. 
Hers was each blufhing charm which youth may boafl 
When Nature grows profufe -, hers too each pow'r, 

i> 4 Attended 



*6 NARRATIVE PIECES. Book 1. 

Attended with each ftudious with to pleafe. 

Fair as the bloom of May, and mildly fweet 

As the foft gales that with their vernal wings - 

Fan the rirft op'ning flow'rs. — Each neighbouring fwaiii 

Had hgh'd and languifh'd, on the tender bark 

Infcrib'd the fair one's name, or to her ear 

Whifper'd his love, — in vain! — None, none were heard, 

Save young Rodolpho, whole prevailing form 

Had won her to his favour : on his brow 

Sot native comelinels, and manly fire 

O'er ali diffus'd its luitre. Yet with her 

His gen'rous mind molt fway'd, where fhone each though* 

That delicacy knows, far more retin'd 

Than fuits the happy! Much he had convers'd 

With rev'rei».d age, and learn'd from thence to prize 
A rural life, learn'd to prefer the peace 
Of his own woods, to the difcordant din 

Of populous cities. What but fate could bar 

Their wilhes? — What indeed ! — —The morn was fix'd 
To leal their plighted faith, the bridegroom rofe 
With all a bridegroom's tranfport, call'd his friends 
To join the jocund train, and haften forth 
To greet th' expecting maid : ftill as he went 
Anticipating Fancy's magic hand, 
The thoufand raptures drew which youthful breafts 
Feel at approaching blifs.— — Alas ! how quick 

Treads woe in pleafure's footfteps ! Now purfue 

The fated youth, tho' words are fure too weak 
To fpeak his horror, when nor well-known farm, 
Nor wonted flocks he faw, but in their place 

A pond'rous mound of fnow. At early dawn 

From the near Alp the cumb'rous ruin fell, 

And crmVd Alberto's rcof. To lend their aid 

Th* affembied villagers were met, and now 
From out the rnais had brought once more to light 
Th' ill-ltarr'd Matilda :— lovely ftill ! — for ftill 
A blufli was en her cheek, and her clos'd eye 

Show'd 



Chap. -XXIII. NARRATIVE PIECES, 5? 

Show'd but as fleep.' Around her head (he wore 
Her bridal ornaments, rieek'd as me was 

To wait the nuptial. Ah ! deck'd in vain ; 

The grave thy marriage bed ! On the fad fcene 

Rodolpho gazes, (lands awhile aghaft, 

The femblance of defpair"; his fwelling b re aft, 

Torn by conflicting pamons, from his tongue 

Utt* ranee withholds. He rolls his. haggard eyes 

On all around, as he would afc if e'er 

Griefs fuch as his were known: then o'er the dead 

A moment pauhng, on her lips imprints 

A thoufand frantic kiffes, her cold hand 

With ardour feizes, and in broken founds 

Calls on Matilda's name. — With that laft word 

The ftruggling foul a paffage finds,' and down 

He fmks in death pale as the ambient mow, Keate. 

CHAP. XXIII. 

L A V I N I A. 

The lovely young Lavinia once had friends; 
And fortune fmiFd, deceitful on her birth ; 
For, in her hopelefs years depriv'd of all, 
Of every ftay, fave innocence and Heaven, 
She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old. 
And poor, hVd in a cottage, far retir'd 
Among the windings of a woody -vale ; 
By folitude and deep furrounding fhades, 
But more by bafhful modefty conceal'd. 
Together thus they fhunn'd the cruel fcorn 
Which virtue^ funk to poverty, would meet 
From giddy paffion, and low-minded pride ; 
Almoft on Nature's common bounty fed; 
lake the gay bird's that fung them to repofe, 
Content and carelefs of to morrow's fate. 
Her form was frefher than the morning rofe, 
When the dew wets its leaves: unftain'd, and pure 

3D 5 As.. 



53 NARRATIVE PIECES. Eoox I. 

As is the lily, or the mountain fnow, 

The modeft virtues mingled in her e$e£, 

Still on the ground dejected, darting all 

Their humid beams into the blooming flowers : 

Or when the mournful tale her mother told, 

Of what her faithlefs fortune promis'd once, 

Thrill'd in her thought, they, like the dewy liar 

Of evening, (hone in tears. A native grace 

Sat fair-proportion'd on her polilh'd limbg, 

Veil'd in a fimple robe, their beft attire, 

Beyond the pomp of drefs ; for lovelinefs 

Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, 

But is, when unadorn'd, adorn'd the moll. 

Thoughtlefs of beauty, me was beauty's felf, 

Reclufe amid the clofe-embowering woods. 

As in the hollow breaft of Appennine, 

Beneath the ihelter of encircling hills, 

A myrtle rifes, far from human eye, 

And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild ; 

So flourifh'd blooming, and unfeen by all, 

The fweet Lavinia ; till at tengtb, compelled 

$y ftrong IsJeceflity's fupreme command, 

YVith frmling patience in her looks > ilie went 

To gle$n Palemon's fields. The pride of fwains 

Palemon was, the generous and the rich ; 

Yr ho led the rural life in all its joy 

And elegance, fuch as Arcadian fong 

Tranfmits from ancient uncorrupted times ; 

When tyrant cuftom had not fhackled man, 

But free to follow Nature was the mode. 

He then his fancy with autumnal fcenes 

Amufmg, chane'd beftde his reaper-train 

To walk, when poor Lavinia drew his eye ; 

Unconfcious of her power, and turning quick 

J"; "ith unaffected blumes from his gaze : ' 

He faw her charming, but he £aw not half 

The C4RHK8 her downcait modeity conceai'd. 

That 



Chap. XXIII. NARRATIVE PIECES. 5ft 

That very moment love and chafte defire 

Sprung in his bofom, to himf elf unknown ; 

For frill the world prevail'd, and its dread laugh, , 

Which fcarce the firm philofopher can fcorn, 

Should his heart own a gleaner in the field ; 

And thus in. fecret to his foul he figlrd : t 

M What pity that fo delicate a form, 
3y beauty kindled, where enlivening fenfe 
And more than vulgar goodnefs feem to dwell. 
Should be devoted to the rude embrace 
Of fome indecent clown ! She looks, me thinks* 
Of old Acafto's line ; and to my mind 
Recals that patron of my happy life, 
From whom my liberal fortune took its rife ; ? 
Now to the dull gone down ; his houfes, lands^ 
And once fair- fpreading family, duTolv'd. 
'Tis faid that in fome lone ohfcure retreat,. 
Urg'd by remembrance fad. and decent pride, 
Far from thofe fcenes which knew their better days, 
His aged widow and his- daughter live, 
Whom yet my fruitlefs fearch could never find: 
Romantic wifh ! would this the daughter -were 1-1 

When, ihiiTt inquiring, from herfelf, he found 
She was the time, the daughter of his friend, . :. 

Of bountiful Acafto, who can (peak 
The mingled paffions that furpris'd his heart, 
And through, his nerves in mivering tranfport ran ■ 
Then hlaz'd his fin.oth.er d flume, avow'd, and Lola. : 
And as he view'd h«», ardent, o'er and o'er. 
Love, gratitude, and pity, wept at once. 
Gonfus'd, and frightened at his fudden tears, 
Her riling beauties fiufh'd a higher bloom, 
As thus Palemon, paffionate and juft, 
Pour'd out the pious rapture .of his foul: 

" And art thou then Acafio's dear remains l 
She, who my reftlefs gratitude has fcught 
So long in vain ? O heavens: the very fame, 

d 6 The 



60 NARRATIVE PIECES. Booii I. 

The foftened image of mv noble friend, 

Alive his every look, bis every feature 

More elegantly touch'd. Sweeter than Spring ! 

Thou foul-furviving blofibm from the root "i 

That nourifh'd up my fortune ! Say, ah, where, : 

In wfiat fequefter'd defert, haft thou drawn 

The kinder! afpect of delighted. Heaven ? 

Into iuch beauty fpread, and blown fo fair ; 

Though poverty's cold wind, and crufhing rain, 

Beat keen, and heavy, on thy tender years ? 

O, let me, now, into a' richer foil 

Tranfplant thee fate ! where vernal funs, and mowers, 

Dmufe their warmeft, largeft influence ; 

And of my garden be the pride and joy ! 

Iil it befits thee, oh it ill befits 

Acafto's daughter, his whole open ftores, 

Though vaft, were little to his ampler heart, 

The father of a country, thus to pick 

The very refufe of thole harveft fields, 

V\ T hich from his bounteous friendship I enjoy. 

Then throw that fhameful pittance from thy hand, 

But ill-applied to fuch a rugged talk ; 

The fields, the mailer, all, my fair, are thine ; 

If to the various bleffings which thy houfe 

lias on me lavifh'd, thou wilt add that blifs, 

That cleared blifs, the power of bienlng thee !" 

Here ceas'd the youth : yet ftill his fpeaking eye 
Exprefs'd the facred triumph of his foul, 
With confeious virtue, gratitude, and love, 
Above the vulgar joy divinely rpjs'd. 
Ncr waited he reply. Won by the charm 
Of gcodnefs irrefiftible, and. all 
In fweet diforder loft, fhe blufh'd confent. 
The news immediate to her mother brought,. 
While piere'd with anxious thought, fhe pin'd as 
The lonely moments for Lavinia's fate 5 
Aniaz'd, and fcarce believing what me heard, 



Chap. XXIV. NARRATIVE PIECES. m 

Joy feiz'd her wither'd veins, and one bright gteasaa 

Of fetting lite tlione on her evening hours : 

Not lei's enraptur'd than the happy pair; 

Who flourifh'd long in tender blils, and rear'd 

A num'rous oiT-pring, lovely like themielves, 

And good, the grace of all the country round. .. 

Thomson, 
C II A P. XXIV. 
The WINTER TRAVELLER, lost in the SNOW, 

Now, while the fnows arife, and foul, and fierce, 

All Winter drives along the darkened air ; 

In his own looforevolving fields, the fwain 

Difafte r'd itands ; fees other hills afcend, 

Of unknown joylefs brow ; and other fcenes, 

Of horrid profpect, {hag the tracklefs plain : 

Nor finds the river, nor the forefr, hid 

Beneath the formlefs wild ; but wanders on 

From hill to dale, itill more and more aftray ; 

Impatient flouncing through the drifted heaps, 

Stung with the thoughts of home : the thoughts of home 

Rum on his nerves, and call their vigour forth 

In many a vain attempt. How finks, his- foul ! 

What black defpair, what honour fills his heart ! 

When for the duiky fpot, which fancy feign' d 

His tufted cottage riling through the fnow, 

He meets the roughnefs of the middle wafte, 

Far from the track and bleil abode of man ; 

While round him night lefiitlefs ciofes faft,.. 

And every tern-pelt, howling o'er his head, 

Renders the lavage wildernefs more wild. 

Then throng the bufy ihapes into his mind, 

Of cover'd pits, unfathomably deep, 

A dire defcent ! beyond the power of froff, 

Of faithlefs bogs ;. of precipices huge, 

Smoothed up with fnow ; and, what is land, unkr.ov:i, 

What water, of the ftilljunfrozen fpring, 



62 NARRATIVE PIECES. Boo* I 

In the loofe marm or folitary lake, 

Where the frelli fountain from the bottom boils. 

Thefe check his fearful ftepfl ; and down he fink? 

Beneath the fhelter of the mapelefs drift, 

Thinking o'er all the bitternefs of death, 

Mix'd with the tender anguifh Nature fhoots 

Through the wrung bofom of the dying Man, 

His wife, his children, and his friends unfeen. 

In vain for him th' officious wife prepares 

The fire fair-blazing, and the veftment warm : 

In vain his little children, peeping out 

Into the mingling ftorm, demand their fire, 

With tears of artlefs innocence. Alas ! 

Nor wife, nor children, more mall he behold, 

Nor friends, nor facred home. On every nerve 

The deadly Winter feizes ; Units up fenfe ; 

And, o'er his inmoit vitals creeping cold, 

Lays him along the mows, a ftiilened eerie, 

Stretch' d cut, and bleaching in the northern blafr. 

Thomson. 

C II A P. XXV. 

E V E'S DREAM. 

O sole, in whom my thoughts find all repoie, 

My glory, my perfection, glad I fee 

Thy face, and morn returned : for I this night 

(Such night till this I never pafs'd !) have dream' d, 

If dream'd, not, as I oft am wont, of thee, 

Works of day paft, or morrow's next defign ; 

But of offence and troXible, which my mind 

Knew never till this irkfome night. Methought 

Clofe at mine ear one call'd me forth to widk 

With, gentle voice; I thought it thine: it faid, 

-■* Why ileep'ft thou, Eve ? Now is the pleai'ant time ? 

The cool, the filent, fave where lilence yields 

To the night-warbling bird, that now awake 

Tunes 



Citap.XXV. NARRATIVE PIECES. 63 

Tunes fweeteft his love-labour' ct fang ; now reigns 

Full-orb'd the moon, and with more pleafing light 

Shadowy fets off the face of things : in vain, 

If none regard : Heav'n wakes with all his eyes ; 

Whom to behold but thee, Nature's defire ? 

In whofe fight all things joy, with ravimmeitt 

Attracted by thy beauty ftill to gaze." 

I rofe as at thy call, but found thee not : 

To find thee I directed then nyy walk : 

And on, methouglit, alone I pafs'd, through ways 

That brought me en a fudden to the tree 

Of interdicted knowledge : fair it feern'd, 

Much fairer to my fancy than by day : 

And as I wond'ring Icok'cl, befide it ftood 

One ihap'd and wing'd like one of thofe from Heav^ 

By us oft feen ; his dewy looks diftiird 

Ambrofia ; on that tree he alfo gaz'd ; 

And, " O fair plant/' faid he, u with fruit furcharg'd, 

Deigns none to eafe thy load, and tafte thy fweet, 

Nor God, nor man ? Is knowledge fo defpis'd ? 

Or envy, or what referve forbids to tafte ? 

Forbid who will, none mall from me withhold 

Longer thy offer' d good ; why elfe let here >" 

This faid, he paus'd not, but with vent'rous arm 

He pluck' d, he tafted : me damp horrour chill'd 

At fuch bold words vouch'" d with a deed fo bold, 

But he thus overjoyed : " O fruit divine, 

Sweet of thyfelf, but much more fweet thus cropp'dj 

Forbidden here, it feems, as only fit 

For gods, yet able to make gods of men : 

And why not Gods of men, fmce good, the more 

Communicated, more abundant grows, 

The author not impaired, but honoured more ? 

Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve, 

Partake thou alfo ; happy though thou art, 

Happier thou may ft be, worthier canfl not be : 

Tafte this, and be henceforth among the gods 

Thyfelf 



64 NARRATIVE PIECES. Book I. 

Thyfelf a goddefs, not to earth confhrd, 

But fometimes in the air, as we ; fometimes 

Afcend to Heaven, by merit thine, and fee 

What life the gods live there, and fuch live thou." 

So faying, he drew nigh, and to me held, 

Ev'n to my mouth, of that fame fruit held part 

"Which he had pluck'd : the pleafant favoury fmcll 

So quicken* d appetite, that I, methought, 

Could not but tafte. Forthwith up to the clouds 

With him I flew, and underneath beheld 

The earth outftretch'd immenfe, a profpect wide 

And various : wond'ring at my flight and change 

To this high exaltation; fuddenly 

My guide was gone, and I, methought, funk down, 

Apd fell afleep : but, O ! how glad I wak'd, 

To find this but a dream ! Milton. 



BOOK II. 

DIDACTIC PIECES 



c ii a r. I. 

ON ELOCUTION. 

I our very-bad enunciation, my Son, gives me real con- 
cern ; and I congratulate both you and myfelf, that I waa 
informed of it (as I hope) in time to prevent it ; and mall 
ever think myfelf, as hereafter you will, I am fare, think 
yourfelf, infinitely obliged to your friend, for informing 
me of it. If this ungraceful and difagreeable manner of 
ipeaking had, either by your negligence or mine, become 
habitual to you, as in a couple of years more it would have 
been, what a figure would you have made in company, or 
in a public affembly ! Who would have liked ycu in the 
one, or have attended to you in the other ? 

Read what Cicero and Quintilian fay of Enunciation, 
and fee what a ftrefs they lay upon the gracefulnefs of it :- 
nay, Cicero goes farther, and even maintains, that a good 
figure is ncccfiary for an Orator; and, particularly, that 
he muft not be rajius, that is, overgrown and clumfy. He 
mows by it, that he knew mankind well, and knew the 
powers of an agreeable figure and a graceful manner. 
Men are much oftencr led by their ears than by their 
underftandings. The way to the heart is, through the 
fenfes : pleafe their eyes and their ears, and the work is 
half done. I have frequently known a man's torture 
decided for ever by his firft. addrefs. If it is pleafingj 
people are. hurried involuntarily into a perfuaiion that 
lie has a merit, which pc-ffibly he has not; as, on the 
other hand, if it is ungraceful, they are immediately 
prejudiced againfr him, and unwilling to allow him the 
merit which, it may be, He hast Nor is this Cefctimeat lb 

iinj iflt 



66 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II; 

unjuft and' uareafopable as at firft it may feem ; for, if a 
man has parts, he mull know of now much consequence 
it'is to him to haye a graceful manner of fpcaking, and a 
genteel and pleating addrefs, and he ^ ill cultivate and im- 
prove them to the utiiiioft. What is the condant and juft 
obfervation, as to all actors upon the llage ? Is it not, 
that tbofe who have the belt fenfe always fpeak the belt, . 
though they may happen not to have the bed voices 
They will fpeak plainly, diin nelly, and with a proper em- 
phafis, be their voices ever fo bad. Had Rofcius fpoken 
quick, thick, and ungracefully, I will anfwer for it that 
Cicero would not have thought him worth the oration 
which he made in his favour. Words were given us to 
communicate our ideas by ; and there muft befomtihing. 
.-rav.dly abfurd, in ujUeriag them in fuch a manner 
OS that either people cannot underhand them, or will not 
deCue to underftand them. I tell you truly and fincerely, 
that I mall judge of your parts by your fpcaking grace- 
ful!) or ungracefully. If you have parts, you will never 
be at reit till 3*011 have brought yourfelf to a habit of 
fpcaking moft gracefully ; for I aver, that it is in your 
power. You will deiire your tutor, that you may read 
aloud to hirn, everyday; and that he will interrupt and 
correct you. every time that you read too fair, do not ob- 
serve the proper ftops, or lay a ftr#wg ^upturns. You 
Vviil take care tc open yum teeth whtu you fpeak; t® 
articulate every word dnlincuy ; and to beg of any friend : 
you fpeak to. to remind, and flop you, if ever you fall 
into 'the rapid and unintelligible mutter.. You will even 
read aloud to yourfelf, and tune your utterance to your 
own ear; and read at fifft much flower than you need to 
do, in order to correct that ihame-ful habit of fpeaking 
falter than you ought. In fliort, you will make it your 
bufmefs, your ftudy, and your pleaiure, to fpeak well, if 
you think right. Therefore, what I have faid, is more 
than luflicient, if you have fenfe ; and ten times, mo:*? 
would not be fumcient if you have not: fo here I reft it. 

Lord Chesterfield. 



Chat. II. DIDACTIC PIECES. 67 

CHAP. II. 
ON READING THE COMMON PRAYER. 

The reading of the Common Prayer well is of fo great 
importance, and fo much neglected, that I take the li- 
berty to offer to your confideration fume particulars on 
that ftibject. 

It is indeed wonderful , that the frequent exercife of it 
fiiould not make the performers of that duty more expert 
in it. This inability, as I conceive, proceeds from the 
little care that is taken of their reading, while boys and 
at fchool, where, when they are got into Latin, they are 
looked upon as above Englifb, the reading of which is 
wholly neglected, or at leaft read to very little purpofe, 
without any due obfervations made to them of the pro- 
per accent and manner of reading; by this means they 
have acquired fuch ill habits as will not eafily'be re- 
moved. The only way that I know of to remedy this, is 
to propofe feme perfon of great ability that way, as a 
pattern for them; example being moit effectual to con- 
vince the learned, as well as mi'trucl the ignorant. 

Ycu muft know, Sir, I have been a conftant frequenter 
of the fervice of the church of England for above thef'e 
four years laft pair, and till Sunday was feven-night neve v 
difcovcred, to fo great a degree, the excellency of the 
Common Prayer ; when, being at St. James's Garlick Hill 
church, I heard the fervice read fo diftmctly, fo empha- 
tically, and fo fervently, that it was next to an impofi]- 
bility to be inattentive. My eyes and my thoughts could 
not wander as ufual, but were confined to my prayers ; 
I then confidered I addreffed myfelf to the Almighty; 
and when I reflected on my former performances of that 
duty, I found I had run it over as a matter of form, in 
comparifon to the manner in which I then difcharged it. 
^iy mind was really affected, and fervent wiihes accom- 
panied my words. The confefhon was read with fuch a 
refjgiied humility, and the thankfgivings with fuch a re- 
ligious 



6\S DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II. 

ligious joy, as made rne feel thofe affections of the mind 
in a manner I never did before. To remedy therefore 
the grievance above complained of, I humbly propofe, 
that this excellent reader upon the next, and every an- 
nual affembly of the clergy of Sion college, and all other 
conventions, mould read prayers before them. For then 
thofe that are afraid of ftretching their mouths, and fpoil* 
ing their foft voice, will learn to read with clearnefs, loud- 
nefs, and flrength. Others, that affeel a rakilh negligent 
air, by folding their arms, awd lolling on their book, 
will be taught a decent behaviour, and comely erection 
of body. Thofe that read faff, as if impatient of their 
work, may learn to fpeak deliberately. There is another 
fort of perfons whom I call Pindaric readers, as being 
confined to no fet meafure; thefe pronounce five or fix 
words with great deliberation, and the live or fix fubfe- 
queht ones with as great celerity; the iirft part of a len- 
ience with a very exalted voice, and the latter part with 
a inbmiilive one; fometimes again with one fort of a tone, 
and' immediately after with a very different one. Thefe 
gentlemen will learn of my admired reader an evennefs 
of voice and delivery ; and all who are innocent of thefe 
affectations, but read with fuch an indifferency as if they 
did not understand the language, may then be informed 
of the art of reading movingly and fervently, how to 
place the emphafis, and give the proper accent to each 
word,- and how to vary the voice according to the nature 
of the fentence. There is certainly a very great difference 
between the reading a prayer and a gazette, which I beg 
of you to inform a fet of readers, who aih-et, forfooth, a 
certain gentleman-like familiarity of tone, and mend the 
language as the)" go on, crying, inftead of yardoncth and 
abfolvet/f, pardons and abfohes. Thefe are often pretty 
clafhcal fcholars, and would think it an unpardonable 
fin to read Virgil or Martial with fo little talte as they 
do divine fervice. 

If -thole who en; in thefe particulars would pleafe to re- 

boflec] 



CiiAP. III. ' DIDACTIC PIECES. % 

collect- the many pleafantries they have read upon thole 
who recite good things with an ill grace, they would go 
en to think that what in that cafe is only ridiculous, in 
themfeives is impious. But leaving this to their own re- 
flections, I mail conclude with what.Cse.far faid upon the 
irregularis . . f tone in one who read before him; Do you 
read orfwg v If $ oufmg, youfng very ill. Spectator, 

C II A P. Ill, 
ADVICE TO A YOUNG CLERGYMAN. 

Haying heard that you are lately entered into holy 
.orde+s, I cannot forbear oftering my thoughts to you 
.upon this new condition of life you are engaged in. 

I take it for granted, that you intend to purfue the 
,beaten track, and arc already defirous to be feen in a 
pulpit ; only I hope you will think it proper to pafs your 
.quarantine among feme of the defolate churches five 
nriles round this town, where you may at leaft learn to 
t rcad and to fpeak, before you venture to expofe your 
parts in a city congregation : not that thefe are better 
judges, but becauie, if a man muft needs expofe his 
fully, it is more fafe and difercet to do fo before few wit.- 
neiu'-s, and in a fcattered neighbourhood. And you will 
do well, if you can preyail upon fome intimate and ju- 
dicious friend to be your conftant hearer, and allow him, 
with the utmoit freedom, to give you notice of whatever" 
he ihali find arnify either in your voice or geihire : for 
want of which early warning, many clergymen continue de- 
.fec'r ive, and fometimes ridiculous, to the end of their lives. 
Js T either is it rare to obferve, among excellent and learned 
divines, a certain ungracious manner, or an unhappy tone 
of voice, which they never have been able to fhake off. 

.} could hkewife have been glad, if you had applied 
ycurfelf a little more to the ftudy of the Englifh lan- 
guage, than I fear you have done ; the neglect whereof 
is one of the moil general defects among the fchoiars of 
this kingdom, who feem not to have the leatt conception 

of 



70 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II 

of flyle, but run on in a flat kind of phrafeology, ofteii 
mingled with barbarous terms and expreflions, peculiar 
to the nation : neither do I perceive that anyperfon either 
finds or acknowledges his wants upon this head, or in the 
leaft defires to have them fuppfied. Proper words in 
proper places make the true definition of a ftyle. But 
this would require too ample a difcuiTion to be now dwelt 
on : however, I fhall venture to name one or two fault?, 
which are eafy to be remedied with a very fma]l portion 
of abilities. 

The firft is the frequent ufe of obfeure terms, which 
by the women are called hard words, and by the better 
iuvt of vulgar, fine langvage ; than which I do not k: 
a mare univerfal, inexcufable, and unneceflary miftakc 
among the clergy of all diftinctions, but efpecially the 
younger practitioners. I have been curious enough to 
take a lift of feveral hundred words in a fermon of a new 
beginner, which not one of his hearers among a hundred 
could polhbly underftand : neither can I eaiily call to 
mind any clergyman of my own acquaintance, who is 
wholly exempt from this errour, although many of them 
agree, with me in the diflike of the thing. But I am apt to 
put myfelf in the place of the vulgar, and think many 
words difficult or obfeure, which the preacher will not 
allow to be fo, becaufe thole words are obvious to fcholars. 
I believe the method obferved by the famous lord Falk- 
land, in fome of his writings, would not be an ill one &t 
young divines : I was allured by an old perfon of quality, 
who knew him well, that, when he doubted whether a 
word were perfectly intelligible or no, he ufed toconfult 
one of his lady's chambermaids, (not the waiting woman, 
becaufe it was poiiible the might be converfant in ro- 
mancesj) and by her judgment was guided whether to re- 
ceive or reject it, And, if that great perfon thought fuch 
a caution ueceffary in tr*atifes offered to the learned * 
world, it will be lu'rely at leaft as proper in fermon?, 
where the rneaheit hearer is fuppofed to be concerned-, . 
uiid where very often a'lady's chambermaid maybe al- 
^ lowed 



.p. III. DIDACTIC PIECES. 71 

lowed to equal half the congregation, both as to quality 
and understanding. But I know not how it conies to pais, 
that profeflbrs in molt arts and fciences are generally the 
worft qualified to explain their meanings to thofe who 
are not of their tribe : a common farmer mail make you 
underiiand,in three words, " that his foot is out of joint, 
or his collar-bone broken ;" wherein a furgeon, after a 
hundred terms of art, if you are not a fcholar, mall leave 
you to feek. It is frequently the fame cafe in law, phyiic, 
and even many of the meaner arts. 

And upon this account it is, that among hard words I 
.number likewife thofe, which are peculiar -to divinity as it 
is a feience, becaufe I have obferved feveral clergymen, 
otherwise little fond of cbfcure terms, yet in their fer- 
mons very liberal of thofe which they find in ecclefiaftieal 
writers, as if it were our duty to underftand them ; which 
I am fure it is not. And I defy the greateft divine to 
produce any law, either of God or man, which obliges me 
to comprehend the meaning of om?ufcience,0'mniprefence, 
ubiquity* attribute, beatific rifion, with a thoufand otherrs 
fo frequent in pulpits, any more than that of eccentric, 
vl'wfyncrafy. eniitij, and the like. I believe I may venture 
to infill' further, that many terms ufed in holy writ, par- 
ticularly by St. Paul, might with more difcretion be 
changed" into plainer fpeech, except when they ate in- 
troduced as part of a quotation, 

I am the more -earneft in this matter, becauieit is a gene- 
ral complaint, and the jufleft in the world, For a diriae 
hath nothing to fay tp the wifeft congregation of any pa- 
riih in this kingdom, which he may not expreis in a man- 
ner to be underitood by the meaneit among them. And 
this after tioa muit be true, or die God requires from us 
re thm we are able to perform. However, not to con- 
-ead whether a logician might polTibly put a cafe that 
would ferve tor an exception, I will appeal to any man ot 
letters, whether at leaft nineteen in twenty of thofe per» 
plexing words might not be changed into eaiy ones, fuch as 
naturally fipft occur to ordinary nieii, and probably di£ 

fo 






jo DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II. 

fo at fnft to thole very gentlemen who are fo fond of the 
former. 

We are often reproved by divines from the pulpit on 
account of our ignorance in things faered, and perhaps 
with juftice enough ; however, it is not very reafonable 
for them to expert, that common men fliould underltand 
exprehions, which are n^ver made ufe of in common iijc. 
The fear of being thought pedants hath been of perni- 
cious confequence to young divines. This hath wholly 
taken many of them from their feverer fiudies in the uni- 
verfity; which they have exchanged for plays, poems, and 
pamphlets, in order to qualify them for tea-tables and 
coffee-houfes. This they ufually call polite conrerfation, 
hnoxcing the world, and reading wen inftead of books. 

It would be endlefs to run over the feveral defects of 
ftvlc among us : 1 fliall therefore lay nothing cf the mean 
and the paltry (which are ufually attended by thefuftigii)^ 
much lefe of the jloienly or indecent. Two things I will 
juii warn you againit : the firft is, the frequency of flat 
unnecefiary epithets ; and the other is, the follv of ufing 
old threadbare phrafes, which will, often make you go 
out of your way to find and apply them, are naufeous to 
rational hearers, and will feldom exprel's your meaning 
as well as your own natural words. 

Although, as I have already obferved,our Englifh tongue 
is too little cultivated in this kingdom, yet the faults are 
-.nine in teh owing to affectation, and not to the want of 
tmderftanding. V\'hen a man's thoughts are clear, the 
propereit words will generally offer themfelves firit, and 
his own judgment will direct him in what order to place 
them, fo as they may be beft underltood. Where men err 
agamft this method, it is ufually on purpofe, and to fhow 
their learnings their oratory, their polifeenefs, or their 
knowledge of the world. In fhort, that iimplicity, with- 
out which no human performance can arrive to any great 
perfection, is no where more eminently ufeful than in this. 

I lhall now mention a particular, wherein your whole 
4 .body will be certainly againftme, and the laity, almoft to 



■sap. HI. DIDACTIC PIECES. 73 

a man, on my fide. However it came about, I cannot get 
over the prejudice of. taking fome little offence at the 
clergy for perpetually reading their iermons ; perhaps my 
frequent hearing of foreigners, who never make ufe of 
notes, may have added to my difguft. And I cannot but 
think, that whatever is read, differs as much from what is 
repeated without book, as a copy does from an original. 
At the fame time I am highly fenfible, what an extreme 
difficulty it would be upon you to alter this method; and 
that, in fuch a cafe, your fermons would be much lefs va- 
luable than they are, for want of time to improve and 
correct them. I would therefore gladly come to a com- 
promife with you in^his matter. I knew a clergyman of 
fome diftinction,who appeared to deliverhis fermon with- 
out looking into his notes, which, when I complimented 
him upon, he afTured me he could not repeat fix lines; 
but his method was to write the whole fermon in a large 
plain hand, with ail the forms of margin, paragraph, 
marked page, and the like; then, on Sunday morning, 
he took care to run it over rive or fix times, which he could 
do in an hour ; and when he delivered it, by pretending 
to turn his face from one fide to trie other, he would (in 

own exprefiion) pick up the lines, and cheat his people 
by making them believe he had it all by heart. lie farther 
added, that, whenever he happened by negled to omit 
of thefe circumuances, the vogue of the parifli was, 
" Our doctor gave us bur an indifferent fermon to day/' 
Nova among lis many clergymen act fo directly contrary 
(o this method, that from a habit ot laving time and payer, 
which they acquired at the univevlity, they write in fo 

.native a maimer, will* fuch frequent blots and inter- 
iineations, that they are hardly able to go on without per- 
petual hefrtations or extemporary expletives : and I de- 
tire to know, what can be more inexcufable, than to fee 
a divine and a fchola'r at a lofs in reading his own com- 
pofitions, which it is fuppofed he has been preparing with 
touch pains and thought for the inltruclion of his jfceople. 
E Y The 



74 : IMDCAHC PIECES. Book II. 

The want of a little more care in this article is the caufe 
nfmucb ungraceful behaviour. You will obferve lbme 
rhTgynien with their heads held down from the begin- 
ning to the end, within an inch of the cuftiion, to read 
What is hardly legible; which, befides the untoward man- 
ner, hinders them from making the befl advantage of 
their voice: others again have a trick of popping up and 
down every moment from their paper to the audience, 
like an idle fchoolboy on a repetition day. 

Le me intreat you therefore to add one half-crown a 
year to the article of paper ; to tranfenbe your fermons in 
as large and plain a manner as you can ; and cither make 
no interlineations, or change the whole leaf ; for we your 
hearers, would rather you mould be lefs correct, than per- 
petually ftammering, which I take to be one of the worft 
foleeifrns in rhetoric. And laftly, read your fermon once 
or twice a day for a few days before you preach it : to 
•which you will probably anfwer fome years hence, " that 
it was but juil finimed, when the laft bell rang to church :" 
and I fhall readily believe, but not excufe you. 

I cannot forbear warning you in the moil earneft manner, 
againft endeavouring at wit in your fermons, becaufe, by 
the itrifteft computation, it is very near a million to one 
that you have none ; and becaufe too many of your call-' 
thg have consequently made themfelvcs evejlaftingly ri- 
diculous by attempting it. I remember feveral young 
men who could never leave the pulpit under half a dozen 
conceit?; and this faculty adhered to thole gentlemen a 
longer or fhorter time, exactly in proportion to their feve- 
ral degrees of dulnefs : accordingly, I am told that fome 
of them retain it to this day. I heartily wifh the brood 
were at an end. S w i r t. 

C II A P. IV. 
ON DIGNITY OF MANNERS. 
Tiieue is a certain dignity of manners absolutely ne- 
-ceffary, to make even the mo ft valuable character either 
refpeded or refpedable.. 

9 Horfe- 



Ciiap. IV. DIDACTIC TIECES. 7-> 

Ilorfe-play, romping, frequent ancl loud fits of laugh- ' 
ter, jokes, waggery, and indiscriminate familiarity, will 
link both merit and knowledge into a degree of contempt. 
They compofe at moft a merry fellow ; and a merry fellow' 
was never yet a refpecrable man. Indifcriminate famili- 
arity either offends your fuperiors, or elfe dubs you their 
dependent, and led captain. It gives your inferiors, juit, 
but troublefome and improper claims of equality. A 
joker is near akin to a buffoon; and neither of them is~ 
the leaft related to wit. Whoever is admittechcr fought 
lor, in company, upon any other account than thatiof tofi 
merit and manners, is never refpected there, but or.lv 
made ufe of. We will have fuch a one, for he lings pret- 
tily: we will invite fuch a one to a hall, for he dances 
well ; we will have fuch a one at flipper, for he is always 
joking and laughing ; we will afk another, becaufe he 
plays deep at all games, or becaufe he can drink a great 
deal. Thefe are ail vilifying diftinctions, mortifying 
ferences, and exclude all ideas of efteem and regard. 
Whoever is had (as it is called) in company, for the fake 
of any one thing iingly, i-: iingly that thing, and will never 
be confidered in any other light; ccnfequently never re- 
tpecied, let bus merits be what they will. 

This dignity of manners, which I recommend fo much 
on; is net cnlyas different from pride, as true cou^- 
rage is from, bantering, or true wit from joking, but is 
~>lutely inconfiftent with it ; for nothing vilifies and de- 
grades more than pride. The pretentions of the proud 
man are oftener treated with fneer and contempt, than 
b indignation : as we offer ridiculoiifly too little to a 
defman, who afks ridiculouflv too much for his goods * 
but we do not haggle with one who only afks a jufl and 
reasonable price.. 

Abject flattery and indifcriminate affentation degrade 3 

bauch as indifcriminate contradiction and noify debate 

juft. But a model! affertiqn of one's own opinion 

' a complaifant acquiescence in other, people's, pre- 

rve dignity. > 

E 2 Yulgar ; 



76 DIDACTIC PIECKS. Book II. 

Vulgar, low exprelTions, awkward motions and ad- 
drefs, vilify, as they imply either a very low turn of 
mind, or low education, and low company- 
Frivolous curiofi ty about trifles, and a laborious atten - 
tion to the little objects, which neither require, nor de- 
ferve a moment's thought, lower a man ; who from thence 
is thought (and not unjuftly) incapable of greater matters. 
Cardinal de Retz very fagacioufly marked out cardinal 
Chigi for a little mind, from the moment that he told 
him he had wrote three years with, the fame pen, and 
that it was an excellent good one frill. 

A certain degree of exterior ferioufnefs in looks and 
motions gives dignity, without excluding wit and decent 
cheerfulnefs, which are always ferious themfelves. A 
conftant fmirk upon the face, and a whi filing activity of 
the. body, are ftrong indications of futility. Whoever is 
in a hurry, fliows that the thing he is about is too big 
for him. Ilafle and hurry are very different things. 

I have only mentioned fome of thofe things which 
may, and do, in the opinion of the world, lower and fink 
characters, in other refpects valuable enough ; but I 
have taken no notice of thofe that affect and fmk the 
moral characters. They are fufficiently obvious. A 
man who has patiently been kicked, may as well pretend 
to courage, as a man blaiied by vices and crimes, to dig- 
nity of any kind. But an exterior decency and dignity 
of manners will even keep fuch a man longer from fink- 
ing, than otherwife he would be : of fuch confequence 
is the ro TVfe7rov, or decorum, even though affected and 
put on! Lord Chesterfield. 

C II A P. V. 

ON VULGARITY. 

A vulgar, ordinary way of thinking, acting, or fpeak- 
ing, implies alow education, and a habit of low company. 
Young people contract it at fchool, or among fervants_, 
with- whom they are too often ufed to coifcvejrfc; but, 

after 



CiiAr.V. DIDACTIC PIECES. * 71 

after thev frequent good company, they muft want at- 
tention and obfervation very much, if they do not lay it 
quite afide. And indeed if they do not, good company 
will be very apt to lay them afide. The various kinds of 
vulgarii'ms are infinite ; I cannot pretend to point them 
out to you : but I will give fome famples, by which you 
may guefs at the reft. 

A vulgar man is captious and jealous ; eager and im- 
petuous about trifles. lie fufpects himfelf to be flighted, 
thinks everv thing that is faid meant at him ; if the 
company happen to laugh, he is perfuaded thev laugh 
at him; he grows angry and tefcy; fays fomethmg very 
impertinent, and draws himfelf into a fcr.ipe, by mowing 
what he calls a proper fpirit, and aliening himfelf. A 
man of fafhion does not fuppofe himfelf to be either the 
fole or principal object of the thoughts, looks, or words 
of the company: and never fufpecls that he is either 
flighted or laughed at, unlefs he is confeious that he de- 
serves it. And if (which very feldom happens) the com- 
pany is abfurd or ill-bred enough to do either, he does 
not care twopence, unlefs the iuiult be i^o grofs and plain 
as to require fatisfaciion of another kind. As he is above 
trifles, he is never vehement and eager about them; and, 
wherever they are concerned, rather acquiefces than 
wrangles. A vulgar man's converfation always favours 
ftrongly of the lownefs of his education and company. 
It turns chiefly upon his domeftic affairs, his fervants, 
the excellent order he keeps in his own family, and the 
little anecdotes of the neighbourhood ; all which he re- 
lates with emphahs, as interefting matters. He is a man 
gofflp. 

Vulgarifm in language is the next, and diftinguifliing 
characteriftic of bad company, and a bad education. A 
man of fafhion avoids nothing with more care than this. 
Proverbial expreihons and trite layings are the flowers 
of the rhetoric oS»a vulgar man. Would- he fay, that men 
differ in their taftos ; he both fupports and adorns that 
e 3 opinion, 



78 * DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II. 

fion. by \ ] i 

an >th r man's poffpji. If 
rt, as he calls it, upon him; 
, that ho does. He has al- 
for tUe time being; which, for 
j ., commonly abafes. Such as 
lad, vafily handfome, and xafdij ugly, 
.vtion of proper words carries the * 
mark i the beaft alongwith it. He calls the earth yearth ; 
fob is '/ to you. He goes to wards and ' 

not towards 4 fuch a place. He fometimes affects hard 
words, by way of ornament, which he always mangle?. 
A man of fafhion never has recourfe to proverbs, and 
vulgar aphoriims ; ufts neither favourite words nor hard- 
words ; but takes great care to fpeak very correctly and 
grammatically, and to pronounce properly : that is, ac- 
cording to the ufage of the beft companies. 

An awkward addrefs, ungraceful attitudes and actions, 
and a certain left-handinefs (if I may ufe that word) 
loudly proclaim low education and low company; for it 
is imr.oilible to fupffofe that J man can have frequented 
good company, without having catched fomething, at 
ies'fc, of their air and motions. A new raifed man is dif- 
tingriifhed in a regiment by his awkwarduefs : but he 
muft be impenetrably dull, if, in a month or two's time, 
he cannot* perform at leaft the common manual exerciie, 
and look like a foldier. The very accoutrements of a 
man of fafhion, are grievous incumbrances to a vulgar 
man. He is at a lofs what to do with his hat, when it is 
not upon his head ; his cane (if unfortunately he wears 
one) is at perpetual war with every cup of tea or coffee 
he drinks ; deliroys them firft, and then accompanies 
them in their fall. His fword is formidable only to his 
own legs, which would poiliblv carry him fait enough out 
of the way of any fword but his own. His clothes lit him 
to ill, and conilrain him fo much, that he fefems rather 
their prifoiHT-than their proprietor. He pre fonts himfelf 



Chap. VI. DIDACTIC PIECES. - 73 

in company, like a criminal 'in a court "of julncc ; 
verv air condems him ; and people of faihion will no more 
connect themfelves with the one, than people of ch:ii;i^:,i 
will 'with the other. This repulfe drives and links hnu 
into low c a gulf from whence no man. after a. 

ccrtainage, ever' emerged. LokdChesili^ield. 

c H A p. vi: 

ON GOOD BREEDING. 

A friend of. yours and mine has veryjuitly defined 
good breeding to be, "• the refult of much good fenie, 
ibme good nature, and a little felf-denial for the iake q£ 
others, and with a view to obtain the fame indulgence 
from them." Taking this for granted, (as I think it can- 
not be dil'puted,) it is aitomming to me, that any bodv\ 
who has good feme and good nature, can efientially fail 
in good breeding. As to the modes of it, indeed, they 
vary according to perfons, places, and circumftances ; 
and are only to be acquired by obfervation and' expe- 
rience ; but the fubftance of it is every where and eternally 
the fame. Good manners are, to particular focieties, what 
good morals are to fociety in general ; their cement ; and 
their fecurity. And, as laws are enacted to enforce goo4 
morals, or at leaft to prevent the ill effects of bad ones; 
lb there are certain rules of civility univerfally implied 
and received, to enforce good manners, and punifh baci 
ones. And indeed there feems to me to be lefs difference, 
both between the crimes and puniiliments, than at .fk-ft 
one would imagine. The immoral man, who invades 
another's property, is juftly hanged for it; 'and the ill- 
bred man, who, by his ill-manners, invades and difturbs 
the quiet and comforts of private life, is by ccmmoQ 
confent as juftly banimed fociety. Mutual complaiiance, 
attentions, and facriflces of little conveniencies, are as 
natural an implied compact between civilized people, as 
protection and obedience are between kings and fubjects; 
whoever, in either cafe, violates that compact, juftly 
£ * forfeits 



S6 DIDACTIC PIECES; Book II. 

forfeits all advantages arifmg from it. For my own part, 
I really think, that next.to the confeioufnefs of doing a 
good action, that of doing a civil one is the moft pleating ; 
and the epithet which I ihould covet the moft, next to 
that of Ariftides, would be that of well bred.' Thus much 
for good breeding in general; I will now conhder fome 
of the various modes and degrees of it. 

Very few, fcarcely any, are wanting in the refpeel 
■which they fliould fhow to thofe whom they acknowledge 
to be infinitely their fuperiors ; fuch as crowned heads, 
princes, and public perlbns of diftinguimed and eminent 
polls. It is the manner of mowing that refpeel; which is 
different. The man of fafhion, and of the world, exprefies 
it in its full extent; but naturally, cafily, and without 
concern : whereas a man, who is riot ufed to keep good 
company, exprefies it awkwardly; one fees that he is not 
ufed to it, and that it coils him a great deal ; but I never 
faw the worft-bred man living, guilty of lolling, whittling, 
Scratching his head, and fuch like indecencies, in com- 
pany that he refpected. In fuch companies, therefore, 
the only point to be attended to is, to mow that refpeel, 
which every body means to fhow, in an eafy, unembar- 
rafTed, and graceful manner. This is what obfervalion 
and experience mult teach you, 

In mixedcompanies, whoever is admitted to make part 
of them, is, for the time at leafl, fuppofed to be upon a 
footing of equality with the reft ; and, confequently, as 
there is no one principal object of awe and refpeel, people 
are apt to take a greater latitude in their behaviour, and 
to be lefs upon their guard ; and fo they may, provided 
it be within cei tdin bounds, which are upon no occafion 
to be tranfgrefled. But, upon thefe occafions, though no 
one is entitled to diftinguiihed marks of refpeel, every- 
one claims, and very jitftly, every mark of civility and 
good breeding. Eafe is allowed, but carelefihefs and neg- 
ligence are ftrictly forbidden. If a man accofts you,, and 
talks to you ever ft) dully or frivoloufly, it is worfe than 

rudenefs. 



Chap. VI. DIDACTIC PIECES. 81 

rudcneis, it is brutality, to lliow him, by a manifeft inat- 
tention to what he lays, that you think him a feol or a 
blockhead, and not worth hearing. It is much more fo 
with regard to women, who, of whatever rank they are, 
are entitled, in confideration of their fex, not only to an 
attentive, but an officious good breeding from men. Their 
little wants, likings, diilikes, preferences, antipathies, antf 
fancies, muftbe officioufly attended to, and, if poffible, 
gueffed at and anticipated, by a well-bred man. You 
muft never ufurp to }ourfelf thofe conveniencies and 
gratifications which are of common right ; fuch as the befl 
places, the beft diflies, &c. : but, on the contrary, always 
decline them yourfelf, and offer them to others ; who, in 
their turns, will offer them to you ; fo that,upon the whole, 
you will, in your turn, enjoy your fliare of the common 
right. It would be endlefs for me to enumerate all the 
particular initances in which a well-bred man ihows his 
good breeding in good company; and it would be inju- 
rious to you to fuppofe, that your own good fenfe will not 
point them out to you ; and then your own good nature 
will recommend, and your felf-inferelt enforce the 
practice. 

There is a third fort of good breeding, in which people 
arc the moil apt to fail, from a very miftaken notion that 
they cannot fail at all. I mean, with regard to-one's moil 
familiar friends and acquaintances, or thofe who really 
are our inferiors; and there, undoubtedly, a greater de- 
gree of eafe is not only allowed, but proper, and contri- 
butes much to the comforts of a private, focial life. But 
eafe and freedom Have their bounds, which mufl by no 
means be violated. A certain degree of negligence and 
rareleiTnefs becomes injurious and infulting, from the 
real or fuppofed inferiority of the perfons ; and that de- 
lightful liberty of converi'ation among a few friends is 
foondeitroyed, as liberty often has been, by being carried 
to licentioufnefs. But example explains things befl, and 
I will put a pretty ftrong cafe. Suppofe you and me alone 
e 5 together ; 



S<2 DIDACTIC PIECES. Hook II. 

together ; 1 believe you will allow, that I have as good a 
right tQ. unlimited freedom in your company, as either 
you or I can poffibly have in any other; and I am apt to 
believe, too, that you would indulge me an that freedom 
as far as any body would. But, notwithstanding this, do 
you imagine I mould think there were no bounds to that 
freedom ? I aiTure you, I mould not think fo ; and I take 
myfelf to be as much tied down by a certain degree of 
good manners to you, as by other degrees of them to 
other people. The inoft familiar and intimate habitudes, 
conne6tions, and friendfbips, require a degree of good 
breeding, both to preferve and cement them. The beft 
of us have our bad fides; and it is as imprudent as it is 
ill-bred, to' exhibit them. I mail not ufe ceremony with 
you ; it would be mifplaced between us : but'I (hall cer- 
tainly obferve that degree of good breeding with you, 
which is, in the firft place, decent, and which, I am fure, 
is abfolutely necefTary to make us like one another's 
company long. Lord Chesterfield. 

, C II A P. VII. 

THE ART OF PLEASING. 

§ 1. 

TiiE d'efire of being pleafed is universal, the de'nre of 
pleafing mould be fo too.*" It is included in that great and 
fundamental principle of morality, of doing to others 
what we wiih they mould do to us. There are indeed 
fome moral duties of a much higher nature, but none of 
a more amiable; and I do not hefitr.te to place it at the 
head of the minor virtues. 

The manner of conferring favours or benefits is, as to 
$>Ieafing,.almoft as important as the matter itfelf. Take 
care, then, never to throw away the obligations, which 
perhaps ycu may have it in your power to confer upon 
others, by an air of infolent proteclicn, or by a cold and 
cornfortlefs manner, which ftifles them in their birth. 
Humanity inclines, religion requires, aDd our moral 

duties 



Chap. VII. DIDACTIC PIECES'. S3 

duties oblige us, as far as we ar-e able, to relieve the dif- 
treiles and miferies of our fellow-creatures; But this is 
not all; for a true heart-felt benevolence and tendernefs 
will prompt us to contribute what we can to their eafe, 
their amuferaent, and their pleafure, as far as innocently 
we may. Let us then not only fcatter benefits, but even 
ftrew flowers for our fellow-travellers, in the nigged 
wavy of this wretched world. 

There are iqme, and but too many in this country par- 
ticularly, who, without the leait vifible taint of ill-nature 
or malevolence, feem to be totally indifferent, and, do not 
/how the ieaft defireto pleafe ; as, on the other'hand, the'jr 
never defignedly offend. Whether this proceeds from a 
lazy, negligent, and lililcfsdifpofition, from a- gloomy and 
melancholic nature, from ill health, low fpirits, or from a 
fecret and fullen pride, ariiing from theconicicufnefs of 
their boafted liberty and independency, is hard to deter- 
mine, confidering the various movements of the human 
heart, and the wonderful errours of the human head. But, 
be the caufe what it will, that neutrality, which is the 
effect, of it, makes thefe people, as neutralities do, des- 
picable, and mere blanks in fociety. They would fu rely 
be roufed from their indifference, if they would ferioufly 
confider the infinite utility of pleafing. 

Theperfon who manifefts a conftant -defife to pleafe lr 
places his, perhaps, fmall ftock of merit, at great interefc. 
What vail returns, then, muff; real merit, when thu 
adorned, neceffarily bring in ! A prudent ufurer would 
with tranfport place his laft fhilling at fuch intereft, and 
upon fo folid a fecurity. 

The man who is amiable will make almoft as many 
friends as he does acquaintances, I mean in the cur- 
rent acceptation of the word; not fuch fentimental 
friends as Pyiacles or Oreftes, Nyms and Euryalus, &c- 
out he will make people in general wifh liim well, and 
inclined to ferve him in any thing ncrt inconftftent with 
their own interetV 

e 6 * Civ;!; - 



84 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book It 

Civility is the efiential article towards pleafmg, and is 
the refult of good nature, and of good fenfe ; but gocd 
breeding is the decoration, the lulrre of civility, and only 
to be acquired by a minute attention to, and experience 
of -good company. A good-natured ploughman, or fox- 
hunter, maybe intentionally as civil as the politeft cour- 
tier ; but their manner often degrades and vilifies the 
matter: whereas, in good breeding, the manner always 
adorns and dignities the matter to fuch a degree, that I 
have often known it give currency to bafe coin. 

Civility is often attended by a ceremonioufnefs, which 
good breeding corrects; but will not quite abolifli. A 
certain degree of ceremony is a neceffary outwork of man- 
ners, as well as of religion : it keeps the forward and petu- 
lant at a proper diftance, and is a very fmall reftraintto 
the fenfible, and to the well-bred part of the world. 

Tn R means of pleaflng vary according to time, place, 
and perfon ; but the general rule is the trite one. En- 
deavour to pleafe, and you will infallibly pleafe to a 
certain degree : conitanti'y ihow a defire to pleafe, and 
you will engage people's felf-love in your intereft ; a 
moft powerful advocate. This, as indeed almoft every 
thing elfe, depends on attention. 

Be therefore attentive to the moft trifling thing that 
panes where you are ; have, as the vulgar phrafe is, your 
eyes and your ears always about you. It is a very foolilh, 
though a very common faying, " I really did noWmind 
it," or, " I was thinking of quite another thing at that 
time." The proper anfwer to fuch ingenious excufes, and 
Which admits of no reply, is, Why did you not mind it ? 
you were prefent when it was laid or done. O ! but you 
may fay, you were thinking of quite another thing : if fo, 
why were not you in quite another place proper for the 
important other thing, which you fay you were thinking 
©f ? But you will fay. perhaps, that xhe company was fo 

fillv. 



CiiAP.VIL DIDACTIC PIECES. S5 

M%', that it did not deferve your attention : that, I am 
fure, is the laving of a filly man; for a mart of fenfe 
knows tiiat there is no company ib filly, that fome tile 
may not be made of it by attention. 

Let your addrefs, when you -firft come into company, 
be modcit, but without the leaft bamfulnels or iheepifh- 
nefs ; iteadv, without impudence, and unembarraned, as if 
you were in your own room. This is a difficult point to 
hit, and therefore deferves great attention : nothing but 
a long ufage in the world, and in the belt company, can 
poflibly give it. 

A young man without knowledge of the world, when 
he firft goes into faihionable company, where moft are his 
fuperiors, is commonly either annihilated by bafhfulnefs, 
or, if he roufes and lafheshimfelf up to whathe only thinks 
a modeft amirance, he runs into impudence and abfurdity, 
and confequently offends, inftead of pleating. Have al- 
waj s, as much as you can, that gentlenefs of manner, which 
never fails to make favourable impreiTions, provided it 
be equally free from an infipid fmile, or a pert fmirk. 

Carefully avoid an augmentative and difputative turn, 
which too many people have, and fome even value them- 
felves upon, in company ; and, when your opinion differs 
from others, maintain it only with modelty, calmnefs, 
and gentlenefs ; but never be eager, loud, or clamorous ; 
and when you find your antagonift beginning to grow 
warm, put an end to the difputeby fome genteel 'ftroke of 
humour. For, take it for granted, if the two belt friends 
in the world difpute with eagernefs, upon the moft trifling 
fubjecl imaginable, they will, for the time, find a momen- 
tary alienation from each other. Difputes upon any fub- 
ject are a fort of trial of the underftanding, and muft end 
in the mortification of one or other of the difputants. On 
the other hand/ 1 am far from meaning that you fhould 
- give an universal alien t to all that you hear laid in com- 
pany; fuch an affent would be mean, and in feme cafes 
criminal ; but blame with indulgence, and correct with 
gentlenefs, 

Always 



SC DIDACTIC PIECES. Hook IL 

Ajways look people in the face when you fpeak to tl | 
the not doing it is thought to imply coni'cious guilt; be- 
fides that, you lofe the advantage of obfervii g, 
countenances, what impr< fl&on ; our difcourfe makes i 
them. In order to know people'.- real fen unents, I truft 
much more to my e in fay 

whatever i hey : have a i 

feldom help lookn .;. ri ion that I 

fliould kr. 

. If you have rot (. h over y con- 

quer your humours, as I am fure every fati tture 

may hav y while the fit of ill-hu- 

mour is upon you. Inifo ad of comj: ally's dn ercmrz you 
in thofernoim difpleafe, andprobabh mock 

them ) and you wiil part worie feiends than you met : but 
whenever you find inyourfelf a difpofiticm to fr.llennefc, 
contradiction, or teitinefs, it will be in vain to ft ek for a 
cure abroad. Stay at home; let your humour fen 
and work itfelf off. Cheerftimefs arid ^ocd-humour are 
of all qualifications the moft amiable in company ; for, 
"though they do not neceffarily imply good nature and 
good breeding, they re ; era, at leaft, very well, 

and that is all that is required in mixed company. 

I have indeed known tome very ill-natured people, 
who were very good-humoured in company; but I nevy 
knevv any one generally ill-humoured in companv, who 
was not eilentially ill-na:ured. When there is no" male- 
volence in the heart, there is always a cheerfulnefs and eafe 
in the countenance and manners. By good humour and 
cheerfulnefs, I am far from meaning noify mirth and loud 
peals of laughter, which are the di ft irrgui filing characler- 
jftics of the vulgar and ill-bred, whofe mirth is a kind of 
ftorm-. Obferve it, the vulgar often laugh, but never 
fmile , whereas, well-bred people often fmile, but feldem 
laugh. A witty thing never excites laughter ; it pleafes 
only the mind, and never diftorts the countenance; a 
glaring absurdity, a blunder, a filly accident, and thofe 

things 



Chjib.VII. . DIDACTIC PIECES. $7 

things that are generally called comical, may excite a 
laugh, though never 'a loud nor a long one, among well- 
bred people. 

Sudden paffion is called fnort-lived madnefs; it is a 

aefs indeed, but the tits of it return fo often in cho- 
leric people, that it may well be called a continual mad- 
nefs. Should you happen to be of this unfortunate dif- 
pofition, make it your conilant Itudy to fubdue, or, at 
leafr, to check it : when you rind your choler rifmg, re- 
folve neither to fpeak to, nor anfwer the perfon who ex- 
cites it ; but fray till you find it fubfiding, and then fpeak 
deliberately. Endeavour to be cool and lfeady upon all 
; : ; the advantages of fuch a iteady calmnefs are 

merable, and would be too tedious to relate. It may 
be acquired by care and reflection; if it could not, that 
rfeafon which diftinguiilies men from brutes, would be 

a us to very little purpofe': as a proof of this, I never 
law, and fcatrcely ever he ird of, a Quaker in a paffion. In 
truth, there is, in that feci, a decorum and decency, and 
ity, that I know in no other. 

§ 3. 
If you have wit, which I am not fure that I wiih you, 
unit is you have, at the ae, at leaft an equal por- 

tion of judgment to keep it in good order, wear it like- 
your fword in the fcabbard, and do not brandifhi t to the 
terrour of the whole company. Wit is a Aiming quality 
that every body admires; mcft people aim at it, all 
:Ie fear it, and few love it, unleis in themfelves. A 
man mint have a good mare of wit in himfelf,-to endure a 
g-reat fliare in another. When wit exerts itfelf in fatire, 
it is a mod malignant diftemper : wit, it is true, may be 
ihown in fatire; but fatire does not' 4 conftitute wit, as many 
ine. A man of wic ought to find a thoufand better 
occauoiis of'ihowing it. 

Abftain, therefore, molt carefully from fatire, which, 
though it fall on no particular perfon in company, and 
momentarily, from the malignancy of the human heart, 

pleafes 



58 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book IX. 

pleafes all ;- ye*t, upon reflexion, it frightens all too. 
Everyone thinks it maybe hk turn next, and will hate 
you for what he finds you could fay of him more than 
be obliged to you for what you do not lay. Fear and 
hatred are next-door neighbours: the more wit you 
have, the more good nature and politenefs you mud 
mow, to induce people to pardon your fuperiority ; for 
that is no eafy matter. 

Appear to have rather lefs than more wit than you 
really have. A wife man will live at leaft as much within 
his wit as his income. Content yourfelf with good fenfe 
and reafon, which at the long run are ever fure to pleafe 
every body who has either; if wit comes into the bar- 
gain, welcome it, but never invite it. Bear this truth al- 
ways in your mind, that you may be admired for your 
wit, if you have any; but that nothing but good fenfe 
and good qualities can make you beloved. Thefe are 
fubftantial every day's wear. Whereas wit is a holiday- 
fuit which people wear chiefly to be ftared at. 

There is a fpeeies of minor wit, which is much ufed 
and much more abufed ; I mean raillery. It is a mo ft 
rnifchievous and dangerous weapon, when in unfkilful 
or clumfy hands; and it is much fafer to let it quite 
alone 7 than to play with it; and yet ahnoft every body do 
play with it, though they fee daily the quarrels and 
heart-burnings that it occafions. 

The injuitice of a bad man is fooner forgiven, than the 
infults of a witty one ; the former only hurts one's liberty 
and property, but the latter hurts and mortifies thatfecret 
pride which no human bread is free from. I will allow 
chat there is a fort of raillery which may not only be in- 
oiTenuve, but even flattering, as when, by a genteel irony, 
you accufe people of thofe imperfections which they are 
moil notorioufly free from, and consequently infmuate 
that they poffefs the contrary virtues. You may fafeH* 
call Ariftides a knave, or a very handfome woman an 
-ugly one. Take care, however, that neither the m 

. character, 



Chap. VII. DIDACTIC PIECES. B$ 

character, nor the lady's beauty, be in theleaft doubtful. 
But this fort of raillery requires a very light and ltcady 
hand to admimiler it. A little too ftrong, it may be mif- 
.takenlnto an offence ; and a little too fmooth, it may he 
thought a fneer, which is a molt odious things 

There is another fort, I will not call it wit, but merri- 
ment and buffoonery, which is mimicry. The moft fuc- 
ccfsful mimic in the world is always the moft abfurd fel- 
low, and an ape is infinitely his fuperior. His profeffiow 
is to imitate and ridicule thbfe natural defects and de- 
formities, for which no man is in the lfcaft accountable, 
and, in the imitation of which, he makes himfclf, for the 
time, as difagreeable and (hocking as thole he mimics. 
But I will fay no more of thefe creatures, who only aniufe 
the loweft rabble of mankind. 

There is another fort of human animals, called wags, 
whofe profeffion is to make the company laugh immode- 
rately, and who always fucceed, provided the company 
coniill of fools ; but who are equally clifappointqd infind- 
ing, that they never can alter a mufcle in the face of a 
man of fenfe. . This is a moft contemptible character, 
arid never efteemed even by thofe who are filly enough 
to be diverted by them. 

Be content for yourfelf with found good fe»fe, and 
good manners, and let wit be thrown Into the bargain, 
where it is proper and inoffenfive. Good fenfe will make 
you efteemed ; good manners will make ycu beloved ; 
and wit will give a luftre to both. 

§ i. 

The egotifm is the mod ufual and favourite figure of 
mod people's rhetoric, and which I hope you will never 
adopt, but, on the contrary, moft fcrupuloufly avoid. 
Nothing is more di&greeable or irkfome to the companv, 
than to hear a man either praifing or condemning himfclf ; 
for both proceed from the fame motive, vanity. 1 would 
allow no man to fneak of himfelf, unlets in a court oi 

juftice, 



90 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II. 

juftice, in his own' defence, or as a v/itnefs. Shall a man 
fpeak in his own praife ? No ; the hero of his own little 
tale always puzzles and difgufts the company, who do 
not know what to fay, or how to look. Shall he blame 
himfelf ? No ; vanity is as much the motive of hfs con- 
demnation as of his panegyric. 

I have known many people take fhame to thcmfelvcs, 
and with a modeft contrition, confefs themfelves guilty 
of moft of the cardinal virtues. They have fuch a weak" 
nefs in their nature, that they cannot help being too' 
much moved with the misfortunes and mii'eries of their 
fellow-creatures, which they feel perhaps more, but, at 
leaft, as much as they do their own. Their generolity, 
they are fenfible, is imprudence ; for they are apt to carry 
it too far, from the weak, the irrefiftible beneficence of 
their nature. They are poiiibly too jealous of their ho- 
nour, too irafcible when they think it is touched; and 
this proceeds from their unhappy warm conftitution, 
which makes them too fenfible upon that point ; and fo 
polubly with refpecl to all the virtues. A poor trick, and 
a wretched inftance of human vanity, and what defeats 
its own purpofe. 

Do you be fure never to fpeak of your£e]f f for yourfelf, 
nor agairji yourfelf ; but let your character fpeak for 
you: whatever that fays will be believed; but whatever 
you fay of it will not be believed, and only make you 
odious and ridiculous. 

I know that you are generous and benevolent in your 
nature ; but that, though tjie principal point, is not quite 
enough; you muft feem fo too. I do not mean often- 
tatioufly; but do not be afhamed, as many young fellows 
are, of owning the laudable fentiments of good nature 
and humanity which you really feel. I have known many 
young men, who defired to be reckoned men of fpirit, af- 
fect a hardnefs and unfeelm.gnefs, which in reality they 
never had ; their converfation is in the decifive and me- 
nacing tone, mixed with horrid and filly oaths : and all 

this 



Chap. VII. DIDACTIC .PIECES. 91 

v this to be thought men of fpirit. Aftonifliing errour this ! 
which neceiTariiy reduces them to this dilemma: if they 
really mean what they lay, 'they are brutes, and, if they do 
not, they are fools for faying it. This, however, is a com- - 
mon character among young men. Carefully a 1 void this 
contagion, and content yourfelf with being calmly and 
mildly refolute and fteady, when you are thoroughly 
convinced you are in the right; for this is true fpirit. 

Obferve the a-propos in every thing you fay or do. In 
convernng with thofe who are much your fuperiors, how- 
ever eafy and familiar you may and ought to be with them, 
preferve the refpect that is due to them. Converfe with 
your equals with an eafy familiarity, and, at the fame time, 
great civility and decency. But too much familiarity, ac- 
cording to the old faying, often breeds contempt, and 
fometimes quarrels. I know nothing more difficult in 
N common behaviour than to fix dae bounds to familiarity ; 
too little implies v an unsociable formality ; too much de- 
ftroys friendly and focial intercourfe. The beft rule I can 
give you to manage familiarity is, never to be more fa- 
miliar with any body than you would be willing, and 
even wifii, that he mould be with you. On the other 
hand, avoid that uncomfortable referve and coldnefe, 
wnich is generally the fiireld of cunning, or the proteclion 
. of dulnefs. To your inferiors you mould ufe -a hearty 
benevolence in your words and actions, inftead of a re- 
fined politenefs, which would be apt to make them fufpeel: 
th,- you rather laughed at them. 

Carefully avoid all affectation either of body or of mind. 
It is a very true and a very trite obfervation, that no man 
is ridiculous for being what he really is, but for affecting 
to be what he is not. No man is awkward by nature, but 
by affecting to be genteel. I have known many a man of 
common i'enfe pafs generally for^a fool, becaufe he af- 
fecled a degree of wit that nature had denied him. A 
ploughman is by no means awkward in the exerciie of 
his trade, but would be exceedingly ridiculous, if he at- 
tempted 






f)<2 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book IT. 

attempted the air and graces of a man of fafhion. You. 
learned to dance ; but it was not for the fake of dancing; 
it was to bring your air and motions back to what they 
would naturally have been, if they had had fair play, and 
4iad not been warned in youth by Lad example?, and 
awkward imitations of other bovs. 

Nature may be cultivated and improved, both as to the 
body and the mind; but it i^ not to be extinguifhed by 
art; and all endeavours of that kind are abfurd, and an 
inexprefhble fund for ridicule. Your body and mind 
muft be at'eafe to be agreeable : but affectation is a par- 
ticular rcftraint, under which no man can be genteel in 
his carriage, or pleating in his cenverfation. Do you 
think your motions would be eafy or graceful, if you wore 
the clothes of another man much iiendereror taller than 
yourfelf ? Certainly not: it is the fume thing with the 
mind, if you affect a character that does not fit you, and 
that nature never intended for you. 

In fine, it may be laid down as a general "rule, that a 
man who defpairs of pleafmg will newer pl-eafe; a man 
that is fure that he fhall always pleafe wherever he goes, 
is a coxcomb; but the man who hopes and endeavours 
to pleafe, will moft infallibly pleafe. 

Loup Chesterfield, 

CHAP. VIII. 

INDUSTRY RECOMMENDED. 

Very few people are good ccconomifts of their fortune,, 
and ftill fewer of their time; and yet, of the two, the 
latter is the moft precious. I heartily with you' to be 
a good oeconomift of both; and you are now of an age to 
begin to think ferioufly of thefe two important articles. 
Young people are apt to think they have fo much time 
before them, that they may fquander what they pleafe 
of it, and yet have enough left; as very great fortunes 
have frequently feduced people to a ruinous profuiion. 
"Fartal miitakes, always repented of, : but always too late ! 

Old 



enAP. VIII. DIDACTIC PIECES. 93 

Old Mr. Lowndes, the famous fecretary of the treafury,, 
in the reigns of king William, queen Anne, and king 
George the firfr, ufed to fay, " Take. care of the pence, 
and the pounds will take care of themfelves." 

This holds equally true as to time ; and Imoft earneftly 
recommend to you the care of -thofe minutes and quarters 
of hours, in the courfe of the day, which people flunk 
too fh-ort to deferve their attention; and yet if fummed 
up at the end of the year, would amoynt to a very con- 
siderable portion of time. For example: you are to be 
at fucli a place at twelve, by appointment : you go out 
at eleven, to make two or three vifits firfr ; thofe perfons 
are not at home : miteaci of fauntering away that inter- 
mediate time at a coftee-houfe, and poilibly alone, return 
home, write a letter, before hand, for the enfuing'poil, 
or take up a good book, I do not mean Dcfcartes,- Mu-1- 
branche, Locke, or Newtcn, by way of dipping; but feme 
book of rational amufement, and detached pieces, as 
Horace, Boileau, Waller, laBruyere, &c. This will be lb 
much time fayed, and by no means ill employed. Many 
people lofe a great deal of time by reading: for they 
read frivolous and idle books, fuch as the abfurd ro- 
mances ot the two luit centuries, where characters, that 
never exifted, are infipidly. diiplayed, and fentiments, that 
were never felt, pompouiiy defcrib.ed; the oriental rav- 
ings and extravagancies of the Arabian Nights, and 
Mogul Tales; and fuch fort of idle frivolous fluff, tbat 
nourishes and improves the mind juit as much as whipped 
cream would the body. Stick to the belt eftablilhed 
books in every language ; the celebrated poets, hiftorians, 
orators, or philofophers. By thefe means (to ufe a city 
metaphor) yon will make 'fifty per cent of that thne, of 
which others do not make above three or four, or pro- 
bably nothing at all. • 

Many people lofe a great deal of their time by lazinefs ; 
they loll and yawn m a great chair, tell themfelves that 
they have not time to begin any thing then, and that ft 

will 






$4* DIDACTIC PIECES. Book If. 

will do as well another time. This is a moft unfortunate 
difpofition, and the greateft cbftruction to both know- 
ledge and bufmcfs. At your age, you have no right not 
claim to lazineis. You are but juft lifted in the world 
and muft be active, diligent, indefatigable. If ever you 
propofe commanding with dignity, you niuft ferve up to 
it with diligence. Never put off till to morrow what you 
can do to day. 

Difpatch is the foul of buf.nefs; and nothing contributes 
mere to difpatch, than method. Lay down a method for 
everything, and ftick to it inviolably, as far as unexpected 
incidents may allow. Fix one certain hour and day in the 
week for your accompts, and keep them together in their 
proper order; by which means they will require very little 
time, and you can. never be much cheated. Whateverlet- 
ters and papers you keep, docket and tie them up in their 
refpective claffts, fo that you may inftantly have recourfe 
to any one. Lay down a method alfo for your reading, 
for which ycu allot a certain mare of your mornings; let 
it be in a confident and confecutive courfe, and not in 
that defultory and unmethodical manner, in which many 
people read fcraps of different authors, upon different iub- 
jecls. Keep a ufeful and fhort commonplace book of 
what you read, to help your memory only, and not for 
pedantic quotations. Never read hiitory without having 
maps, and a chronological book, or tables, lying by you, 
and constantly recurred to ; without which, hiitory is 
only a confufed heap of facts. One method more I re 
commend to you, by which I have found great benefit, 
even' in the moft ditfipated part, of my life; that is, to 
rife early, and at the fame hour every morning, how late 
foevefyou may have fat up the night before. 

You may fay, it may be, as ma try young people would, 
that all this order and method is very troublefome, only 
fit for dull people, and a c'i (agreeable reftraint upon the 
noble fpirit and lire of youth. I deny it ; and affert, oh 
the contrary, that it will procure you both more time 

and 



Chap. IX. DIDACTIC PIECES. QS 

and more tafte for your pleafures ; and, fo- far from being 
troublefome to you ; that, after you have purfued it a 
month, it would be troublefome to } 7 ou to lay it afide. 

Loud Chesterfield. 

CHAP. IX. 

AGAINST A DILATORY DISPOSITION. 

The folly of allowing ourfelves to delay what we know 
cannot be finally efcaped, is one of the general weaknefTes, 
which, in fpite of the mftru&ion of moralifts, and the re- 
monftrances of reafon, prevail to a greater or jefs degree 
in every mind : even they who moft fteadily withftand it, 
find it, if not the moft violent, the moft pertinacious of 
their paffions, always renewing its attacks, and, though 
often vanquifhed, never deftroyed. 

It is indeed natural to have particular regard to the time 
prefent, and to be moft.folicitous for that which is by its 
nearnefs enabled to make the itrongeft impreffions. When 
therefore any fharp pain is to be fuffered, or any formid- 
able danger to be incurred, we can fcarcely exempt our- 
felves wholly from the feducements of imagination ; we 
readily believe that another day will bring fome fupport 
or advantage which we now want; and are eafily per- 
iuaded that the moment of neceflity which we defire never 
to arrive, is at a great diftance from us. ■ 

Thus life is languifhed awaj in the gloom of anxiety, 
and conlumed in collecting refolution which the next 
morning diffipates; in forming purpofes which we fcarce- 
ly hope to keep, and reconciling ourfelves to our own 
cowardice by excufes, which, while we admit them, we 
know to be abfurd. Our firmnefs is, by the contiuual 
contemplation of mifery, hourly impaired ; every fub- 
miflion to our fear enlarges its dominion; we not 
only wafle that time in which the evil we dread might 
have been fufTered and funmounted, but even where pro- 
craftination produces no abfolute increai'e of cur diffi- 
culties, make them lefs fuperable to ourfelves bv habi- 
tual terrours. When evils carmot be avoided, it is wife to 

contract 



fib DIDACTIC PIECES. _ Book II 

contract the interval of expectation; to meet the mis- 
chiefs which will overtake us if we fly; and fuller only 
their real malignity, without the conflicts of doubt and 
anguifh of anticipation. 

To act is far eaiier than to fufTer, yet we every day fee 
the progrefs of life retarded by the vis inertia, the mere 
repugnance to motion, and find multitudes repining at 
the want of that which nothing but idlenei's hinders them 
from enjoying. The cafe of Tantalus, in the region, of 
poetic punillmicnt, was fomewhat to be pitied, becaufe 
the fruits that hung about him retired from his haitd ; 
but what tendernefs can be claimed by thofe, who, though 
perhaps they fufTer the pains of Tantalus, will never lift 
their hands for their own relief? 

There is nothing more common aiEoag this torpid ge- 
. neration than murmurs and complaints; murmurs at 
uneafmefs which only vacancy and fufpicion expofe them 
to fuel, and complaints of diftrefies which it is in their 
own power to remove. Lazinefs is commonly afibciated 
with timidity. Either fear originally prohibits endea- 
vours, by infuling defpair of fuccefs; or the frequent 
failure of irrefolute itruggles, and the conftant deli re of 
avoiding labour, imprefs by degrees falfe terrours on 
the mind. But fear, whether natural or acquired, when 
once k has full pofiefiion of ; the fancy, never fails to 
employ it upon villous of calamity, fuch as, if they are 
net diliipatcd by ufeful employment, will foon overcalt 
it with horrors, and imbitter life not^only with thofe 
miferies by which all earthly beings are really more or 
lef's tormented, but with thofe which do not yet exifr, 
and which can only be diicerned oy the perfpicacity of 
cowardice. 

Among all who facrifice future advantages to prefent in- 
clination, fcarcely any gain fo little as thofe that fuller 
themfelves to freeze in idlenefs. Others are corrupted by 
fome enjoyment of more or lefs power to gratify the paf- 
iions; but to neglect our duties, merely to avoid the labour 
of performing them, a labour which is always punctualiy 
X rewarded, 






Chap. IX. DIDACTIC PIECES. 97 

rewarded, is furely to fink under weak temptations. fdtg- 
nefs never can fecure tranquillity ; the call of reafon and 
of confcience will pierce the clofeft pavilion of the Hug- 
gard. and though it may not have force to drive hira 
from his down, will be loud enough to hinder him from 
fleep. Thofe moments which he cannot refolve to make 
ufeful by devoting them to the great bufinefs of his be- 
ing, will ftill be ufurped by powers that will not leave 
them to his difpofal ; remorfe and vexation will feize 
upon them, and forbid him to enjoy what he is fo de- 
firons to appropriate. 

There are ether caafes of inactivity incident to more 
active faculties and more acute difcernmeiu He to 
whom many objects of purfuit arife at the fame tiria \ ; %U 
"frequently helitate between clifTerent delires, till a riva T l 
has precluded him : or change his courfe as new attrac- 
tions prevail, and harrafs himfelf without advancing, 
lie who lees different ways to the fame end, will, unlefs 
he watches carefully over his own conducl, lay out too 
much of his attention upon the comparifon of probabi- 
lities, and the adjuftment of expedients, and paufe in the 
choice of his road, till fome accident intercepts his 
• journey. He whofe penetration extends to remote con- 
fequences, and who, whenever he applies his attention to 
any defign, diic.orers new profpects, of advantage, and 
pofTibilities of improvement, will not eafily be perfuaded 
that his project is ripe for execution; but will fuperadd 
one contrivance to another, endeavour to unite various 
purpofes in one operation, multiply complications, and 
refine niceties, till he is entangled in his own fcheme, and 
bewildered in the perplexity of various intentions. He 
that refolves to unite all the beauties of lituation in a 
new purchafe, muft wafte his life La roving to no purpofe 
from province to province. lie that hopes in the fame. 
houfe to obtain every convenience, may draw plans and 
fiudy Palladio, but will never lay a ftone. lie will at- 
tempt a treatife on fome important fubject. and amafs 
~ materials, "confult authors, and ftudy all the- 4er endent 

F a»* 



<# DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II. 

and collateral parts of learning, but never conclude 
iiimfelf qualified to write. He that has abilities to con- 
ceive perfection, will not eafily be content without it ; 
and fince perfection cannot be reached, will lofe the 
opportunity of doing well in the vain hope of unattain- 
able excellence. 

The certainty that life cannot be long, and the pro- 
bability that it will be much fhorter than nature allows, 
"ought to awaken every man to the active profecution of 
whatever he is deiirous to perform. It is true, that no 
diligence can afcertain fuccefs ; death may intercept the 
fwifteft career; but he who is cut off in the execution of 
an honeft undertaking, has at lealt the honour of falling 
in his rank, and has fought the battle, though he milled 
the victory. Rambler, 

C II A P. X. 

ON PRODIGALITY. 

It is the fate of almoft every patfion, when it has patted 
the bounds which nature prefcribes,to counteract its own 
purpofe. Too much rage hinders the warrior from cir- 
cumfpection ; and too much eagernefs of profit hurts the 
j;redit of the trader. Too much ardour takes away from 
the lover that eafmefs of addrefs with which ladies are 
delighted. Thus extravagance, though dictated by 
vanity, and incited by voluptuoufnefs, feldom procures 
ultimately either applaufe or pleafure. 

If praife bejuftly eftimated by the character of thofe 
from whom it is received, little fatisfaction will be given 
to the spendthrift by the encomiums which he purchases 
For who are they that animate him in his purfuits, but 
young men, thoughtlefs and abandoned like himfelf, un- 
acquainted with all on which the wifdom of nations has 
imprefifed the ftamp of excelle-nce, and devoid alike of 
knowledge and of virtue ? By whom is his profufion 
praifed, but by wretches who confiderhim as fubfervient 
to t heir purpofes, Sirens that entice him to fhipwreck, 
and Cyclops that are gaping to devour him ? 

Every 



Cbav. X. DIDACTIC PIECES. &<*. 

Every man, whofe knowledge, or whofe virtue, can 
give value to his opinion, looks with fcorn, or pity, nei- 
ther of which can afford much gratification to pride, on 
him whom the panders of luxury have drawn into the 
circle of their influence, and whom he fees parcelled 
out among the different miniiters of folly, and about to 
be torn to pieces by tailors and jockies, vintners and at- 
tornies, who at once rob and ridicule him, and who are 
fecretly triumphing over his weaknefs, when they prefent 
new incitements to his appetite, and heighten his defires 
by counterfeited applaufe. 

Such is the praife that is purchafed by prodigality. 
Even when it is yet not dtfeovered to be falfe, it is the 
praife only of thofe whom it is reproachful to pleafe, and 
whofe fmcerity is corrupted by their intereft; men who 
]ive~'by the riots which they encourage, and who know 
that whenever their pupil grows wife, they flia.ll lofe their 
power. Yet with iuch flatteries, if they could laft, might 
the cravings of vanity, which is feldomvery delicate, be 
Aitisfied : but the time is always haftening forward when, 
this triumph, poor as it is, fhall vanifh, and when thofe 
who now furrouud him with obfequiouihefs and compli- 
ments, fawn among his equipage, and animate his riots, 
ihall turn upon him with infolence, and reproacli him 
with the vices promoted by themfelves. 

And as little pretentions has the man, who fquanders 
his eltate by vain or vicious expenfes, to greater de grees 
of pleafure than are obtained by others. To make any 
happinefs fincere, it is necefTary that we believe it to be 
lifting ; Jince whatever we fuppofe ourfelves in danger 
of lofmjr, muft be enjoyed with folicitude and uneafinefs^ 
and ^f more value we fet upon it, the more muft the 
prefent pofieflion be imbittered. How can he then be 
envied for his felicity, who knows that its continuance 
cannot be expected, and who is confeious -that a very 
tfiort time will give him up to the gripe of poverty, which, 
will be harder to be borne, as he has given way to mor^ 
f 2 -exceffes, 



100 DIDACTIC PIECES. Pook It. 

txccnes, wantoned in greater abundance, and indulged 
fcis appetites with more profufenefs? 

It appears evident, that frugality is neecfTary even to 
complete the pleafure of expenfe ; for it may be generally 
remarked of thofe who fquander what they know their 
fortune not fuflicient to allow, that in their moil jovial 
expenfe, there always breaks out fome proof of difcon- 
tent and impatience; they either fcatter with a kind of 
wild defperation, and affected lavifhnefs, as criminals 
brave the gallows when they cannot efcape it, or pay their 
money with a peeviih anxiety, and endeavour at once to 
fpend idly, and to fave meanly: having neither firmnefs 
to deny their palhons, nor courage to gratify them, they 
murmur at their own enjoyments, and poifon the bowl 
of pleafure by reflection on the cofr. 

Amor,!, thefe men there is often the vociferation of 
merriment, but very feldom the tranquillity of cheer- 
fulnefs; they inflame their imaginations to a kind of 
momentary jollity, by the help of wine and riot, and con- 
fider it as the iirit bufmefs of the night to ftupify recol- 
lection, and to lay that reafon afleep, which dillurbs their 
gayety, and calls upon them to retreat from ruin. 

But this poor broken fatisfaction is of fliort continuance, 
and muft be expiated by a long feriesof mifery and regret 
In a ihort time the creditor grows impatient, the laft acre 
is fold, the pathons and appetites ft ill continue their ty- 
ranny, with inceflant calls for their ufual gratifications; 
and the remainder of life pafies away in vain repentance, 
or impotent defire. Uambxer. 

CHAP. XI. 

ON GENEROSITY. 

1 consider a generous mind as the nobleft work of 
the creation, and am perfuaded wherever it refides no 
real merit can be wanting. It is perhaps, the moft An- 
gular of all the moral endowments : I am fure, at leaft, 
it is often imputed, where it cannot juftly be claimed. 

The 



Chat. XI. DIDACTIC PIECES. jot 

The meaneft felf-love, under fome refined difguife, fre- 
quently paiTes upon common obfervers for this godlike 
principle : and I have known many a popular action 
attributed to this motive, when it flowed from no higher 
a fource than the fuggeftions of concealed vanity. Good 
nature, as it has many features in common with this 
virtue, is ufually mhiaken for it : the former, however, is 
but the effect, ' poffibly, of a happy difpofilion of the 
animal ftruckire, or, as Dryden calls it, of a certain 
H milkinefs of blood ;" whereas the latter is feated in the 
mind, and can ne\er fubiiil where good fenfe and en- 
larged fentiments have no exiitenee. It is entirely found- 
ed, indeed, upon jufhaefs, of thought, which, perhaps, is 
the reafon this virtue is fo little the characteristic of 
mankind in general. A man whofe mind is warped by 
the felfifh paftions, or contracted by the narrow prejudices 
of feels or parties, if he does not want honefty, muft 
undoubtedly want underftanding. The fame clouds 
that darken his intellectual views, obftruft his moral 
ones ; and his generofity is extremely circumfcribed, 
becaufe his veafon is exceedingly limited. 

It is the diiringuifhing preeminence of the Chriftian 
fyftem, that it eheriihes this elevated principle in one of 
its nobleft exertions. Forgivenefs of injuries, I confefs 
indeed, has been inculcated by feveral of the heathen 
nioraliits ; but it never entered into the eitablilhed ordi- 
nances of any religion, till it had the ianction of the 
great Author of ours. I have often, however, wondered 
that the ancients, who raifed fo many virtues and affec- 
tions of the mind into divinities, mould never have given 
a place in their temples to Generofity ; unlefs, perhaps,, 
they included it under the notion of Fides or Honos. 
But furely the might reafonably have claimed a feparate 
altar and fuperior rites. A principle of honour may re- 
ftrain a man from counteracting the focial ties, who yet 
has nothing ^of that active flame of generofity, which is 
too powerful to be confined within the humbler bounda- 
p 3 ries 



J02 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II. 

lies of mere negative duties. True generofity rifes above 
the ordinary rules of focial conduct, and flows with much 
too full aftream to be comprehended within the precife 
marks of formal precepts. It is a vigorous principle in 
the foul, which opens and expands all her virtues far be- 
yond thofe which are only the forced and unnatural pro- 
ductions of a timid obedience. The man who is influenced 
ftngly by motives of the latter kind, aims no higher than 
at certain authoritative ftandards, without ever attempt- 
ing to reach thofe glorious elevations, which conftitute 
the only true heroifm of the focial character. Religion, 
without this fovereign principle, -degenerates into a 
flavilh fear, and wifdom into a fpecious cunning ; learn- 
ing is but the avarice of the mind, and wit its more 
pleafing kind of madnefs. In a word, generofity fancti- 
iies every paffion, and adds grace to every acquisition 
of the foul; and if it does not neceffarily include, at 
leaft it reflects a luftre upon the whole circle of moral ancl 
intellectual qualities. Melmoth. 

CHAP. XII. 

ON TASTE. 

The charms of the fine arts are derived from the Au- 
thor of all nature, and founded in the original frame and 
conftitution of the human mind. Accordingly, the general 
principles of tafte are common to our whole fpecies, and 
arifefrom that internal fenfe of beauty, which every man, 
vn fome degree at leaft, evidently pofieiTes. No rational 
mind can be fo wholly void of all perceptions of this fort, 
as to be capable of contemplating the various obje&s that 
furround him, with an equal coldnefs and indifference. 
There are certain forms, which muft necefiarily fill the 
foul with agreeable ideas; and fhe is inftantly determined 
in approbation of them, previous to all reafoning con- 
cerning their ufe and convenience. It is upon thefe general 
principles, that what is called fine tafte in the arts is 
founded ; and confequently, is by no means fo precarious 

and 



Chap. XII. DIDACTIC PIECES. 103 

and unfettled an idea as many choofe to defcribe it. The 
truth is, tafteis nothing more than this univerfal fenieof 
beauty rendered more exquifite by genius, and more 
correct by cultivation ; and it is from the fimple and 
original ideas of this fort, that the mind learns to form 
her judgment of the higher and more complex kinds. 
Accordingly, the whole imitative and oratorical art is 
governed by the fame general rules of criticifm; and 
to prove the certainty of ihefe with refpect to one 
of them, is to eftablifh their validity with regard to all 
the reft. I will therefore conhder the criterion of tafte, 
in relation only to fine writing. 

Eachfpeciesof compofitionhas its diftinct perfection} 
And it would require a particular examination of the cha- 
racters of each, to prove their refpective beauties to be 
derived from truth and nature, and confequently reduci- 
ble ta a regular and precife ftandard. I will only men- 
tion, therefore, thole general properties which are effential 
to them all, and without which they muft neceflarily be 
defective in their feveral kinds. Thefe, I think, may be 
comprehended under uniformity in- their defign, variety 
and refemblance in their metaphors and fimilitudes, to- 
gether with propriety and harmony in the diction. Now 
ibme or all of thefe qualities conftantly attend our ideas 
of beauty, and necqflarily raife that agreeable percep- 
tion of the mind, in what object foever they appear. 
The charms of line compofition, then, are fo far from 
exifting only in the heated imagination of an enthufiaftic 
admirer, that they refult from the conftitution of Nature 
herfelf. And perhaps the principles of criticifm are as 
certain andindifputable, even as thofe of the mathematics. 
Thus, for inftance, that order is preferable to confufion, 
that harmony is more pleafmg than difibnance, with 
fome few other axioms upon which the fcience is built, 
are truths which ftrike at once upon the mind with the 
fame force of conviction, as that the whole is greater 
than any of its parts, that, or if from equals you take 
F 4 away 



104 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II. 

away equals, the remainder will be equal, And in both 
cafes, the propofitions which reft upon thefe plain and 
obvious maxims, feem equally capable of the fame 
evidence of demonstration. 

But as every intellectual, as well as animal faculty, 
is improved and ftrengijiened by exercife, the more 
the foul exerts this her internal fenfe of beauty upon 
any particular object, the more flie will enlarge and 
Tefine her relim of that peculiar fpecies. For this 
reafon the works of thole great mafters, whofe perform- 
ances have long and generally been admired, fupply a 
farther criterion of fine tafte, equally fixed and cer- 
tain as that which is derived from Nature herfelf. 
The truth i?, fine writing is only the art of raifing 
agreeable fenfations of the intelle&ual kind : and 
therefore, as by examining thofe original forms which 
are adapted to awaken this perception in the mind, we 
learn wbmt thofe qualities are which conftitute beauty in 
general ; fo, by obferving the peculiar conflruclion of 
thofe compofitions of genius which have always pleafed, 
we perfect our idea of fine writing in particular. It is 
tins united approbation, in perfons of different ages and 
of various characters and languages, that Longinus has 
made the ted of the true fublime; and he might with 
equal juftice have extended the fame criterion to all 
the inferior excellences of elegant compofition. Thus 
the deference paid to the performances of the great 
matters of antiquity is fixed upon juft and iblid rea- 
fons: it is not becaufe Ariftotlc and Horace have given 
us the rules of criticifm, that we fubmtt to their authority ; 
it is becaufe thofe rules are derived from works, that have 
been diftinguifhed by the uninterrupted admiration of 
all the more improved part of mankind, from their ear- 
lieft appearance down to this prefent hour. For whatever, 
through a long feries of ages,, has been univcrfally 
cfleemed beautiful, cannot but be conformable to our 
juft and natural ideas of beauty. Melmotii. 



Chap. XIII. DIDACTIC PIECES, 105 

CHAP. XIII. 
ON STYLE. 

The beauties of ftyle feem to be generally confiderecF 
as below the attention both of an author and a reader. 
There was a time, however, (and it was a period of the 
trueft refinement) when an excellence of this kind was 
eiteemed in the number of the politeft accompliihments, 
as it was the ambition of the great names of antiquity to 
diiringuiih themfelves in the improvement of their native 
tongue. Julius Caafar, who was not only the greateft 
hero, but the finetl gentleman that ever, perhaps, ap- 
peared in the world, was defirousof adding this talent to 
his other moil mining endowments ; and we are told he 
iludied" the language of his own. country with much 
application, as we are fure he poflefled it in the higheft 
elegance. What a lofs it is to the literary world, that 
the treatife he wrote upon this fubject is periflied with, 
many other valuable works of that age ! But though 
we are deprived of the benefit of his observations, we 
are huppily not without an inftance of their effects; and 
his own memoirs will ever remain as the belt and bright- 
eft exemplar not only of true generalfhip,, but of fine 
writing. He publifhed them,, indeed, only as materials 
for the ufe of thofe who mould.be difpofed. to enlarge 
upon that remarkable period of the Roman ftory ; yet 
the purity and gracefulnefs of his ftyle were fuch, that 
no judicious writer durft attempt to touch the fubject 
after him* 

Having produced ib illuftrious an inftance in favour, 
of the art of fine writing, it would be impertinent to 
add a fecond, were I, to cite a lefs authority than that of 
the immortal T.ully. This noble authoryin his Dialogue 
concerning the celebrated Eew&en orators, frequently 
mentions it as a very high encomium,. that they poflefTed 
the elegance of their native language ; and introduces 
r 5 Brutus, 



105 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book If. 

Brutus as declaring, that he fhould prefer the honour of 
being efteemed the great mailer and improver of Roman 
eloquence, even to the glory of many triumphs. 

But to add reafon to precedent, and to view this art 
in its ufe as well as its dignity, will it not be allowed of 
fome importance, when it is confidered that eloquence 
is one of the mod confiderable auxiliaries to truth ? No- 
thing, indeed, contributes more to fubdue the mind to 
the force of reafon, than her being fupported by the 
powerful affiftance of mafculine and vigorous oratory: 
as, on the contrary, the moft legitimate arguments 
may be difappointed of that fuccefs they deferve, by 
being attended with a fpiritlefs and enfeebled expreflion. 
Accordingly, that moft elegant of writers, Mr. Addifon, 
obferves, in one of his effays, that, " there is as much 
u difference between comprehending a thought clothed 
" in Cicero's language, and that of an ordinary writer, 
" as between feeing an object by the light of a taper, 
u and by the light of the fun/' 

It is furely, then, a very ftrange conceit of the cele- 
brated M-albranche, who feems to think the pleafure 
which arifes from perufing a well-written piece is of the 
criminal kind, and has its fource in the weaknefs and 
effeminacy of the human heart. A man rauft have a 
very uncommon feverity of temper indeed, who can find 
any 1 thing to condemn in adding charms to truth, and 
gaining the heart by captivating the ear ; in uniting rofes 
with the thorns of fcience, and joining pleafure with 
inftruclion. "V 

The trifth is, the mind is delighted with a fine ftyle, 
upen the fame principle that it prefers regularity to con- 
iufion, and beauty to deformity. A tafte of this fort is 
fo far from being a mark of any depravity of our na- 
ture, that I fliould" rather confider it as an evidence, in 
fome degree, of the moral reclitude of its conflitution, 
as it is a proof of its retaining fome relifh, at leaft, of 
harmony and order. 

On* 



Chap. XIV. DIDACTIC PIECES. 107 

One might be apt, indeed, to fufpe& that certain 
writers amongft us had confidered all beauties of this fort 
in the fame gloomy view with Malbranche; or at leaft 
that they avoided every refinement in ftyle, as unworthy 
a lover of truth and philofophy. Their fentiments are 
funk by the loweft expreffions, and feem condemned to* 
the firil curfe of " creeping upon the ground all the- 
" days of their life." Others,- on the contrary, miftake 
pomp for dignity : and, in order to raife their expref- 
fions above vulgar language, lift them up beyond com- 
mon apprehenfions, efteeming it, (one mould imagine) 
a mark of their genius, that it requires fome ingenuity 
to penetrate their meaning. But how few writers are- 
able to hit that true medium which lies between thofe dif- 
tant extremes ! How feldom do we meet with an author 
whole exprellions are glowing, but not glaring: whofe 
metaphors are natural, but not common ; whofe periods 
are harmonious, but not poetical ; in a word, whofe fen- 
timents are well fet, and mown to the undemanding in 
their trueli and moft advantageous luftre. 

Melmoth. 

C II A P. XIV. 

ON THINKING. 

There is not a more fingular character in the world 
than that of a thinking man. It is not merely having a 
fucceffion of ideas, which lightly fkim over the mind, 
that can with any propriety be ftyled by that denomina- 
tion. It is obferving them feparately and diftin&ly, and 
rangW them under their refpective clafies : it is calmly 
and fteadily viewing our opinions en every fide, and re- 
folutely tracing them through all their confequences and 
connexions, that constitutes the man .of refie&ion, and 
dininguiflies reafon from fancy. Providence, indeed, 
does not feem to have formed any very confiderable num- 
ber of our fpecics for an exteniive exercife of this higher 
F 6 faculty; 



103 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II. 

faculty; as the thoughts of the far greater part of man- 
kind are neceffarily reftrained within the ordinary pur- 
pofes of animal life : but even if we look up to thofe who 
move in much fuperior orbits, and who have opportuni- 
ties to improve, as well as leifure to exercife their under- 
Handings, we fhall find that thinking is one of the laft 
exerted privileges of cultivated humanity. 

It is, indeed, an operation of the mind which meets 
with many ebftructions to check its juft and free di- 
rection ; but there are two principles which prevail more 
or lefs, in theconftitutions of moft men, that particularly 
contribute to keep this faculty cf the foul unemployed ; 
I mean pride and indolence. To defcend to truth 
through the tedious progreffion of well-examined deduc- 
tions, is confidered as a reproach to the quicknefs of un- 
derstanding ; as it is by much too laborious a method for 
any but thofe who arepolTefled of a vigorous and refolute 
activity of mind. For this reafon the greater part of our 
fpecies generally chooie either to feize upon their eonclu- 
fions at once, or to take them by rebound from others, 
as beft fuiting with their vanity or their lazinefs. Ac- 
cordingly Mr. Locke obferves, that there are notfo many 
errors and wrong opinions in the world as is generally 
imagined. Not that he thinks mankind are by any 
means uniform in embracing truth ; butbecaufe the ma- 
jority of them, he maintains, have no thought or opinion 
at all about thofe do clrines concerning which they raife 
the greateft clamour.* Like the common foldiers in an 
army, they follow where their leaders direcl:, without 
knowing, or even inquiring into the caufe, for which 
they fo warmly contend. 

This will account for the How ftepsby which truth has 
advanced in the world on one fide, and for thofe abfurd 
fyftems, which, at different periods, have had a univerfal 
currency on the other. For there is aftrange difpofition 
in human nature, either blindly to tread the fame paths 
that have been traverfed by others, or to ftrike out 
7 into 



Chap. XIV. DIDACTIC PIECES. 10<? 

into the moil devious extravagances ; the greater part 
of the world will either totally renounce their reafon, 
or reafon only from the wild fuggeftions of a heated 
imagination. 

From the fame fouree may be derived thofe divifions 
and animofities, which break the union both of public 
and private focieties, and turn the peace and harmony 
of human intercourfe into diflonance and contention : for 
while men judge and act by fuch meafures as have not 
been .proved by the ilandard of difpafilcnate reafon, they 
muff equally be miltaken in their eftimates both of their 
own conduct and that of ethers. 

If we turn onr view from active to contemplative life, 
we may have oecafion, perhaps, to remark, that thinking 
is no lefs uncommon in the literary than in the civil 
world. The number of thofe writers, who can with any 
juitnefsof expreilion be termed thinking authors, would 
not form a very copious library, though one were to 
take in all of that kind which both ancient and modern 
times have produced. NeceiTarily, I imagine, mull one 
exclude from a collection of this fort, all critics, com- 
mentators, modern Latin poets, tranflators, and", in fliort, 
all that numerous undertribe in the commonwealth of 
literature, that owe their exiftence merely to the 
thoughts of others. I mould reject, for the fame reafon, 
fuch compilers as Valerius Maximus and Aulus Gellius ; 
though it mud be owned, indeed, their works have ac- 
quired an accidental value, as they preferve to us feveral 
curious traces of antiquity, which time would other- 
wife have entirely worn out. Thofe teeming geniufes 
likewife, who have propagated the fruits of their ftudies 
through a long fsries of tracts, would have little pre- 
tence, I believe, to be admitted as writers of reflection : 
for this reafon I cannot regret the lofs of thofe incredi- 
ble numbers of compofitions, which fome of the ancients 
are faid to have produced. It is obvious to imagine' 

with 



110 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II. 

with what fort of materials the productions of fuch ex- 
peditious workmen were wrought up : found thought 
and well-matured reflexions could have no mare, we 
may be fure, in thefe hafty performances. Thus are 
books multiplied, whilft authors are fcarce, and fo 
much eafier is it to write than to think ! 

Meliioth. 

C II A P. XV. 

ON TRUTH. 

u Truth," to ufe the expreflionof the excellent Mr. 
Wollaiton, " is the offspring of unbroken meditations, 
and of thoughts often revifed and correcled." It requires, 
indeed, great patience and refolution to diflipate that 
cloud of darknefs which furrouuds her ; or, if you will 
allow me to go to an old philofopher for my alluiion, to 
draw her up from that profound well in which me lies 
concealed. 

There is, however, fuch a general connection in the 
operations of nature, that the difcovery even of a angle 
truth opens the way to numberlefs others; and when 
once the mind has hit upon a right fcent, flie cannot 
wholly purfue her inquiries in vain. 

It muft be owned, neverthelefs, that after having ex- 
erted all our fagacity and induftry, we fliall fcarce arrive 
at certainty in many fpeculative truths. Providence does 
not feem to have intended, that we mould ever be inpof- 
feflion of demonstrative knowledge beyond a very limited 
compafs; though at the fame time it cannot be fuppofed, 
without the higheft injuftice to the benevolent Author of 
our natures, that he has left any necefiary truths without 
evident notes of diftin<ftion. But while the powers of the 
mind are thus limited in their extent, and greatly fallible 
likewife in their operations, is it net amazing, that man- 
kind mould infult each other for difference in opinion, 
8 and 



Chap. XV. DIDACTIC PIECES. ill 

and treat every notion that oppofes their own with oblo- 
quy and contempt ? Is it not ama2ing, that a creature 
with talents fo precarious and circumfcribed, mould 
ufurp that confidence which can only belong to much 
fuperior beings, and claim a deference which is due to 
perfection alone ? Surely the greateft arrogance that 
ever entered into the human heart, is that which not 
only pretends to be pofitive itfelf in points wherein the 
Left and wifeft have difagreed, but looks down with all 
the inf. lent fuperiority of contemptuous pity on thofe, 
whofe impartial reafonings have led them into oppofite 
ccncluiions. 

There is nothing, perhaps, more evident than that our 
intellectual faculties are not formed byonegeneraWtand- 
ard, and ccnfequeritly, that diverfity of opinion is of the 
very effence of our natures. 

Happy had it been for the peace of the world, if our 
maintainers of fyftems, either in religion or politics, had 
conducted their feveral debates with the full impreflion 
of this truth upon their minds. Genuine philofophy is 
ever, indeed, the leaft dogmatical ; and I am always in- 
clined to fufpe<5t the force of that argument, which is ob- 
truded with arrogance and fufiiciency. 

I am wonderfully pleafed with a paifage in the preface 
to Mr. Boyle's Philofophical Eiiays, and would recom- 
mend that cautious fpirit, by which he profefles to have 
conducted himfelf in his phyfical researches, as worthy 
the imitation of inquirers after truth of every kind. 

" Perhaps you will wonder/' fays he, u that in almoil 
every one of the following effays I mould ufe fo often 
perhaps, itjeems, 'tis not improhgbte, as arguing a diffidence 
of the truth of the opinions 1 incline to ; and that I 
mould be fo my of laying down principles, and fometimes 
of fo much as venturing at explications. But I mufl 
freely confefs, that having met with many things of 
which I could givcmyfelf no one probable caufe, and 
forne things of which feveral caufes may be afiigned, fo 

differing 



112 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book If. 

differing as-not to agree in any thing, unlefs in their being 
all of them probable enough: I have often found f'ucti 
difficulties in fearching into the caufes and manner of 
things, and lam fo fenfible of my own difability to fur- 
mount thofe difficulties, that I dare fpeak confidently and 
pofitively of very few things, except matter of facl. And 
when I venture to deliver any thing by way of opinion, I 
fliould, if it were not for mere fhame, fpeak more diffi- 
dently than I have been wont to do. Nor have my 
thoughts been altogether idle, in forming notions and' 
attempting to devife hypothefes. But I have hitherte 
(though not always, yet not unfrequently) found that 
whatpleafed me for awhile, wasfoon after difgraced by 
fome farther or new experiment. And, indeed, I have 
the lefs envied- many, (for J fay not all) of thofe writers 
who have taken upon them to deliver the caufes of things, 
and explicate the myfteries of nature, fihec I'have had 
opportunity to obferve how many of their doctrines, af- 
ter having been for a~ while applauded' and even ad- 
mired, have afterwards been confuted by fome new phe- 
nomenon in nature, which was either unknown to fuch 
writers, or not fufficiently confidered by them." 

If pofitivenefs could become any man in any point of 
mere fpeculation, it muft have been this truly noble phi- 
lofopher, when he was delivering the remit of his fludies 
in a fcience wherein, by the united confetti', n of the 
whole world, he fo eminently excelled. But he had' 
too much generofity to prescribe his own notions as a 
meafure to the judgment of others, and too much good 
fenfeto afiert them with heat and confidence. 

Whoever purfues his Speculations with this humbk 
unarrogating temper -of mind, and with the beft exertion' 
of thofe faculties which Providence has affigned him, 
though he mould not find the convi&ion, never, furely, 
can he fail of the reward of truth. Melmotii, 



Chap. XVI. DIDACTIC PIECES. 113 

C II A P. XVI. 

THE JUDGMENT OF HERCULES. 

Now had the fori of Jove mature, attained 
The joyful prime; when youth, elate and gay, 

Steps into life; and follows unreitrained 
Where palhon leads, or prudence points tire way. 

In the pure mind, at thole ambiguous years, 
Or vice, rank weed, iirft ltrikes her pois 'nous foot ; 

Or haply virtue's opening bud appears 
By juft degrees: fair bloom of faireft fruit ; 
For, if on youth's untainted thought irhpreft'd, 
The gen'rous purpofe ftill lhall warm the manly breaft. 

As on a day, reflecting on his age 
For higheft deeds now ripe, Alcides fought 

Retirement ; nurfe of contemplation fage; 
Step following ftep, and thought fucceeding thought; 

Mufing, with Heady pace the youth purfued 
His walk, and loll in meditation Itray'd 

Far in a lonely vale, with folitude 
Converfing; while intent his mind furvey'd 
The dubious path of life : before him lay 
Here Virtue's rough afcent, there Pleafure's flow'ry way, 

Much did the view divide his wavering mind . 
Now glow'd his breaft with generous thirft of fame j 

Now love ofeafe to fofter thoughts' inclin'd 
His yielding foul, and quench'd the ri fin g flame* 
When, lo ! far off two female forms he Tpies ; 
Direct to him their fteps they feem to bear ; 

Both large and tall, exceeding human fize, 
Both far exceeding human beauty, fair. 
Graceful, yet each with different grace, they move : 
This, ftriking fat red awe; that, fofter, winning love. 

The 



1 14 DIDACTIC TIECES. Book II. 

The firft, in native dignity furpafs'd ; 
Artlefs and unadorn'd ihe pleas'd the more: 

Health o'er her looks a genuine luftre call.; 
A veft, more white than new-fall'n fnow, me wore. 

Augufl me trod, yet modeft was her air; 
Serene her eye, yet darting heav'nly fire. 

Still ilie drew near, and nearer ftill more fair, 
More mild appear'd : yctfuch as might infpire 
Pleafure corrected with an awful fear ; 
Majeilically fweet, and amiably fevere. 

The other dame feem'd ev'n of fairer hue ; 
But bold her mien; unguarded rov'd her eye: 

And her flufh'd cheeks confefs'd at nearer view 
The borrow'd blumes of an artful dye. 

All foft and delicate, with airy fwirii 
Lightly me danc'd along; her robe betray'd 

Through the clear texture every tender limb, 
Height'ning the charms it only feem'd to made : 
And as it flow'd adown, fo loofe and thin, 
Her flature ftiow'd more tall ; more fnowy-white her {km. 

Oft with a fmile me view'd herfelf afkance : 
Ev'n on her (hade a confcious look fhe threw : 

Then all around her caft a carelefs glance, 
Tomark what gazing eyes her beauty drew. 

As they came near, before that other maid 
Approaching decent, eagerly me prefs'd 

With hafty ftep ; nor of repulfe afraid, 
With freedom bland the wand'ring youth addrefs'd; 
Willi winning fondnefs on his neck me hung> 
Sweet as the honey-dew flow'd her enchanting tongue. 

" Dear Hercules, whence this unkind delay ? 
Dear youth, what doubts can thus diftrad thy mind ? 

Securely follow, where I lead the way; 
And range through wilds of pleafure unconfin'd. 

Witfe 



Chap. XVI. DIDACTIC PIECES. 115 

With me retire, from noife, and pain, and care; 
Embath'd in bliis, and wrapt in endlefs eafe: 

Rough is the road to fame, thro' blood and war; 
Smooth is my way, and all my paths are peace. 
With me retire from t r -\ls and perils free; 
Leave honour to the wretch ! pleafures were made for thee. 

" Then will I grant thee all thy foul's defre; 
All that may charm thine ear, and pleafe thy fight : 

All that thy thought can frame, orwiih require, 
To fteep thy ravim'd fenfes in delight. 

The fumptuous feaft, enhanc'd with mufie's founti ? 
Fitted to tune the melting fpul to love ; > 

Rich odours, breathing choiceft fweets around; 
The fragrant bow'r, cool fountain, ftiady grove : 
Frefh flowers, to ftrew thy couch, and crown thy head ; 
Joy mall attend thy fieps, and Eafe mall fmooth thy bed. 

" Thefe will I freely, conftantly fupply : 
Pleafures, not earn'd with toil, nor mix'd with woe; 

Far from thy reft repining Want mail fly ; 
Nor Labour bathe in fweat thy careful brow. 

Mature the copious harveft mall be thine; 
Let the laborious hind fubdue the foil : 

Leave the ram fbldier fpoils of war to win ; 
Won by the foldier thou (halt (hare the fpoil: 
Thefe fofter cares my bled allies employ, 
New pleafures to invent; to wifh, and to enjoy." 

Her winning voice the youth attentive caught : 
He gaz'd impatient on the fmiling maid ; 

Still gaz'd, and liften'd : then her name befought : 

" My name, fair youth, is Iiappinefs," file faid. 

" Well can my friends this envied truth maintain : 

• They (hare my bliis ; they bell can fpeak mypraife : 

Though Slander call me Sloth — detraction vain ! 

Heed not what Slander, vain jdet racier, fays: 

Slander, 



116* DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II. 

Slander, ftill prompt true merit to defame ; 
To blot the brighteil worth, and blaft the faireft name/' 

By this, arfiv'd the fair majeftic maid : 
(She all the while, with the ^imc modeit pace, 

Compos'd, advanc'd) — " Know, Hercules," lhe laid 
With manly tone, " thy birth of heav'nly race ; 

Thy tinder age that lov'd I n ft r u&icn's voic^, 
Promised thee generous, patient, brave, and wifc ; 

When manhood mould confirm thy glorious choice : 
Now Expectation waits to fee thee rife, 
Rife, youth ! exalt thyfelf, and me : approve 
Thy high defcent from lieaveji ; and dare be worthy jove. 

** But what Truth prompts, my tongue (hall not di%uife ; 
The fteep afcent muft be with toil fubdued : 

Watchings and cares muft win the lofty prize 
Propos'd by Heav'n ; true blifs, and real good. 

Honour rewards the brave and bold alone : 
She fpurns the timorous, indolent, and bafe : 

Danger and Toil ftand Hern before her throne, 
And guard (fo Jove commands) the fapred place. 
Who feeks her muft the mighty cell fuftain, 
And pay the price of fame — labour, and care, and pain. 

u Would'-ft thou engage the gods' peculiar care ? 
O Hercules, th' immortal pov/rs adore ! 

With a pure heart, with facrifice and pray'r 
Attend their altars ; and their aid implore. 

Or, would'ft thou gain thy country's loud applaufe, 
Lov'd as her father, as her god ador'd ? 

Be thou the bold aflerter of her caufe ; 
Her voice, in council ; in the fight, her fword. 
In peace, in war, purfue thy country's good : 
For her, bare thy bold breaft, and pour thy generous blood. 

" Would" h 



Chap. XVI. DIDACTIC PIECES. 117 

' Would 'it thou, to quell the proud aud lift th'opprefs'd, 
In arts of war, and matchleis itrength excel? 

Firft conquer thou thyfelf. To eafe, to reft, 
To each foft thought of pleafure, bid farevvel. 

The night alternate, due to fweet repofe, 
In watches wafte; in painful march, the day: 

Congeal'd amiclft the rigorous winter's fnows ; 
Scorched by the fummer's thirft-in flaming ray. 
Thy harden d limbs fhall boatt fuperior might : 
Vigour fliall brace thine arm, refiftlefs in the imht." 

— *y 

u Hear'ft thou,whatmonftersthen thou muft engage; 
What danger, gentle youth, ilie bids thee prove ?" 

(Abrupt, fays Sloth) — f\ 111 fit thy tender age 
Tumult and wars : fit age, for joy and love. 

Turn, gentle youth, to me, to love and joy ! 
To thefe I lead: no nioniters here fliall nay 

Thine eafy courfe : no cares thy peace annoy : 
I lead to blifs a nearer, fmoother way. 
Short is my way; fair, eafy, fmooth, and plain : 
Turn, gentle youth, with me eternal pleafures reign." 



I" 



" What pleafures, vain miftaken wretch, are thim 
Virtue withfcorn replied — " who fleep'ft in eafe 

Infenfate ; whofe foft limbs the toil decline 
That feafons blifs, and makes enjoyment pleafe. 

Draining the copious bowl, ere TlnVlt require; 
Feafting, ere Hunger to the fealt invite : 

Whofe taftelefs joys anticipate defire ; 
Whom luxury fupplies with appetite, 
Yet nature loaths; and you employ in vain 
Variety and art to conquer her difdain. 



u The fparkling netftar cooled with fummer fnows ; 
The dainty board with choiceit viands fpread ; 

To thee are taftelefs all ; ilncere Repofe 
Flies from thy now'ry couch amd downy bed, 

For 



118 DIDACTIC PIECES. Boctk II, 

For thou art only tir'd with indolence : 
Nor is thy deep with toil and labour bought ; 

Th' imperfect fleep that lulls thy languid fenfe 
In dull oblivious intervals of thought ; 
That kindly fteals th' inactive hours away 
From the long ling'ring fpace, that lengthens out the day. 

" From bounteous Nature's unexhausted ftores 
JFlows the pure fountain of fincere delights; 

Averfe to her, you wafte the joylefs hours ; 
Sleep drowns thy days, and Riot rules thy nights. 

Immortal though thou art, indignant Jove 
Hurfd thee from Heaven, th' immortals' blifsful place; 

Forever banifhed from the realms above, • 
To dwell on earth, with man's degenerate race ; 
Fitter abode 1 on earth alike difgrac'd ; 
Rejected by the wife, and by the fool embrac'd. 

' ' Fond wretch, that vainly weenelt all delight 
To gratify the fenfe referv'd for thee ; 

Yet the moft pleafing object to the fight, 
Thine own fair action, never did ft thou fee. 

Tho' lulPd with fofteft founds thou lieft along; 
Soft mufic, warbling voices, melting lays : 

Ne'er didft thou hear, more fweet than fweeteft fong 

Charming the foul, thou ne'er didft hear thy praife ! 

No — to thy revels let the fool repair: [fnare. 

To fuch, go fmooth thy fpeech; and fpread thy tempting 

" Vaft happinefs enjoy thy gay allies ! 
A youth of follies ; an old age of cares : 

Young, yet enervate : old, yet never wife ; 
Vice waftes their vigour, and their mind impairs. 

Vain, idle; delicate, in though tlefs eafe, 
Keferving woes for age, their prime they fpend ; 

All wretched, hopelefs, in the evil days, 
With forrow to the verge of life they tend. 

Griev'd 



Chap. XVI. DIDACTIC PIECES. no 

Griev'd with the prefent : of the paft afham'd ; 
They live, and are defpifed : they die, nor more are nam'd. 

" But with the gods, and godlike men I dwell: 
Me, his fupreme delight, th' Almighty Sire 

Regards well-pleafed : whatever works excel, 
All, or divine, or human, I infpire. 

Counfel with Strength, and Induftry with Art, 
In union meet conjoin'd, with me refide : 

My dictates arm, inftruc>, and mend the heart ; 
The fureft policy, the wifeft guide. 
With me, true Friend/hip dwells: me deigns to bind 
Thofe generous fouls alone, whom I before have join'd.. 

*' Nor need my friends the various coilly feaft ; 
Hunger to them, the effects of art fupplies : 

Labour prepares their weary limbs to reft ; 
Sweet is their fleep ; light, cheerful, flrong they rife : 
Thro' health, thro' joy, thro' pleafure and renown, 
They tread my paths; and by a foft defcent, 
At length to age all gently finking down, 
Look back with tranfport on a life well-fpent, 
In which no hour flew unimprov'd away, 
In which fome generous deed diitinguimed every day. 

" And when, the deftin'd term at length complete, 
Their afhes reft in peace; eternal fame 

Sounds wide their praife; triumphant over Fate, 
In facred fong, for ever lives their name. 

This Hercules, is happinefs ! obey 
My voice, and live. Let thy celeftial birth 

Lift, and enlarge, thy thoughts. Behold the way 
That leads to fame ; and raifes thee from earth 
Immortal! Lo, I guide thy fteps. Arife, 
Purfue the glorious path, and claim thy native ikies." 

Her 



120 DIDACTIC PIECES. Cook II. 

Her words breathe fire cclcftial, and impart 
New vigour to bis foul ; that fudden caught 

The generous flame : with great intent his heart 
Swells fall ! and labours with exalted thought : 

The milt of errour from his eyes difpell'd, 
Through all her fraudful arts in cleareft light 

Sloth, in her native form, he now beheld; 
Unveil'd fhe iiood, confefs'd before his fight: 
Falfe Siren — All her vaunted charms, that fhone 
$o freftverewhile and fair, now withcr'd, pale, and gone. 

No more the rofy bloom in fweet difguife 
Mafks'hrr diffemblcd looks: each borrow'd grace 
' Leaves her wan cheek ; pale ficknefs clouds her eyes 
Livid and funk, and paflions dim her face ; 

As when fair Iris has awhile difplay'd 
Her watry arch, with gaudy painture gay ; 

While yet we gaze, the glorious colours fade, 
And from our wonder gently fteal away : 
Where fhone the beauteous phantom erft fo bright, 
Now lowers the low-hung cloud , all gloomy to the fight. 

But Virtue, more engaging all the while, 
Difclofed new charms; more lovely, more ferene; 

Beaming fweet influence. A milder fmile 
Soften* d the terrours of her lofty mien. 

" Lead, goddefs, I am thine!" (traufported cried 
Alcides :) " O propitious pow'r, thy way 

Teach me ! pofTefs my foul ; be thou my guide : 
From thee, O never, never let me ft ray !" 
While ardent thus the youth his vows addrcfs'd ; 
With all the goddefs nll'd, already glowed his breaft. 

The heav'nly maid, with ftrength divine endued 
His daring foul ; there all her powers combined : 

Firm Conftancy, undaunted Fortitude, 
Enduring Pa tience armed his mighty min& 

Uhmov'd 



Csap.XVH. DIDACTIC PIECES. 121 

Unmov'd in toils, in dangers undifmay'd, 
By many a hardy deed and bold emprifo, 

From riercelt monirers, thro' her powerful aid, 
lit- freed the earth: thro' her, he gain'd the fkies, 
Twas Virtue placed him in the bieft abode, 
Crowu'd with eternal youth, among the gods, a god. 

c h a p. xvii. 
variety in human characters. 

Virtuous and vicious ev'ry mart muft be, 

Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree ; 

The rogue and fool, by fits, is fair and wife ; 

Mid ev'n the belt, by fits* what they defpilo* 

'Tis but by parts we follow good or ill ; 

For, vice or virtue, felf directs it ftill j 

Each individual feeks a fev'ral goal ; 

But Heaven's great view is One. and that the Whole, 

That counterworks each folly and caprice ; 

: j hat difappoints th' effect of every vice ; 

That, happy frailties to all ranks applied ; 

Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride, 

Fear to the ftatefman, raihnefs to the chie£ 

To kings presumption, and to crowds belief: 

That Virtue's ends from Vanity can raife, 

Which feeks no mi'reft, no reward but praife ; 

And build on wants, aud on defects of mind, 

The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind. 

Heav'n forming each on other to depend, 
A mailer, or a iervant, or a friend, 
Bids each on other for afliftance call, 
"Till one man's weaknefs grows the ftrength of all. 
Wants, frailties, paffions, cloier ftill ally 
The common int'reit, or endear the tie. 
To thefe we owe true friend fhip, love fincere, 
Each home-felt joy that life inherits here; 

G Yet 



i:2 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II 

Yet from the fame we h-un, in its'decline, 
Thofe joys", thofe loves, thofe int'refls to refign"; 
Taugj.it half by reafon, hah by mere decay, 

To welcome death, and calmly pafs away. 

Whate'er the pafiion, knowledge, fame, or pelf, 
Not one will change his neighbour with himfelf. 
r i he learn' d is happy, nature to explore ; 
Tne fool is happy, that he knows no more ; 
The rich is happy, in the plenty giv'n ; 
The poor contents him with the care of Heav'o, 
See the blind beggar dance, the cripple ling, 
The lot a hero, lunatic a king ; 
The ftarving chemifi in his golden views 
Supremely bleft; the poet in his mufe. 

See fome ftrange comfort ev'ry ftate attend, 
And pride beftow*d on all, a common friend; 
See ionic fit paliion. ev'ry age fupply ; 
Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die. 

Behold the child, by nature's kindly law, 
Pleas' d with a rattle, tickled with a draw : 
$ome livelier plaything gives'his youth delight, 
A little louder, but as empty quite ; 
Scarfs, garters, gold, amufe his riper ftage ; 
And beads and prayer-books are the toys of age : 
Pleas'd with this bauble frill, as that before ; 
Till tir'd he fleeps, and life's poor play is o'er. 

Meanwhile opinion gilds with varying rays 
Thofe painted clouds that beautify our days ; 
Each want of happinefs by hope fupplied, 
And each vacuity of fenfe by pride : 
r l I.eie build as fart as Knowledge can deftroy ; 
hi Folly's cup ftill laughs the bubble, joy; 
One profpeft loft, another ftill we gain ; 
Ar.d not a vanity j& given in vain ; 
I Vn mean felf-love becomes, by force divine, 
Ihefcule to meafure others' wants by thine. 

See 



Oliat. XVIII. DIDACTIC PIECES. 125- 

See! and coufefs., one comfort (till muft rife, 

Tis this, though man's a fool, yet God is wise. Pope. 

chap, xviii. 
philosophical melancholy. 

He comes ! he comes ! in every breeze the Power 

Of Philofophic. Melancholy comes ! 

His near approach th'e fudden-ftarting tear, 

The glowing cheek, the mild-dejected air,. 

The foftened feature, and the beating heart, 

Pierc'd deep with many a virtuous pang, declare. 

O'er all the foul his facred influence breathes ! 

Inflames imagination ; through the breail 

Infuies every tendernefs ; and far 

Beyond dim earth exalts the fwelling thought. 

Ten thoiifand thoufand fleet ideas, fuch 

As never mingled with the vulgar dream, 

Crowd fait into the mind's creative eye. 

As faft the correspondent paffions rife, 

As varied, arid as high. Devotion rais'd 

To rapture, and divine aftonimment ; 

The love of Nature, unconfin'd, and, chief, 

Of human race, the large ambitious wlfli, 

To make them bleft ; the figh for fuftering worth 

Loft in obfcurityi the nobler fcorn 

Of tyrant pride ; the fearlefs great refolve ; 

The wonder which the dying patriot draws, 

Infpiring- glory through remoteft time ; 

The awaken'd throb for virtue and for fame; 

The fympathies of love and friendihip dear : 

With all the focial offspring of the, heart, , Thomson". 



124 DIDACTIC PIECES. Book II. 

C II A P. XIX. 
CONTEMPLATION. 

As yet 'tis midnight deep. The weary clouds, 
Slow meeting, mingle into folid gloom. 
Now, while the drowfy world lies loft in fleep, 
Let me ailbciate with the ferious Night, 
And Contemplation her fedate compeer; 
Let me make off th' intrufive cares of day, 
And lay the meddling fenfes all afide. 

Where now, ye lying vanities of life ! 
Ye ever-tempting, ever-cheating train ! 
Where are you now? and what is your amount? 
Vexation, difappointment, and remorfe. 
Sad, fickening thought ! And yet deluded man, 
A fcene of crude disjointed vifions paft, 
And broken flumbers, rifes ftillrefolved, 
.With new-flunYd hopes, to run the giddy round. 

Father of light and life! thou Gootf Supreme !' 
O, teach me what is good ! teach me Thyfelf ! 
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, 
From every low purfuit ! and feed my foul 
With knowledge, confcious peace, and virtue pure; 
Sacred, fubftantial, never-fading blifs ! 

Thomson*. 



BOOK IIL 
ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. 

C II A P. I. 

PROOF of the EXISTENCE of DEHT. 

Is tii ere a God ? It is a queition of infinite moment, 

on the folution of which depend every obligation, and 
every consolation of religion. It is a queition, however, 
which it is unneceflary to involve in the perplexity of abf- 
trufe fpeculation, fince it may be determined by a Tingle 
argument, which is fo obvious as to be intelligible to every 
capacity, and withal fo conclusive, that the whole weight 
of the great caufe of religion may be fafely retted upon it. 
No man obferves the conftruciion of a clock or other 
piece of mechanifm, without immediately concludingit to 
be the production of fome ingenious artift. And this con- 
-clufion is the fame, whether it be deduced from the rela- 
tion which the mind perceives between the ideas of a work 
and a workman, an act and an agent, in any particular 
cafe, or referred to a univerfal axiom, grounded on the 
obfervations of many individual cafes in which it is exem- 
plified. When a vulgar fpectator infers, from the marks 
of defign and ingenuity which any fpecies of manufacture 
difcovers, that there muft have been fome mechanic em- 
ployed in producing it ; — when the fame obferver fo far 
generalifes his ideas as t© remark, that every work fuppofes 
a workman ; — and when the philofopher, who has accuf- 
tomed himfelf to contemplate the ideas of fenfible objects 
abftractedly, maintains that every effect muft have a caufe, 
and that every effect, which bears evident marks of defign, 
muft have a defigning or intelligent caufe ; — the mind, in 
each cafe, panes through the fume operation; the fame 
g 3 relation 






l<26 . ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. Boox M. 

relation of ideas is obfcrved ; and the fume conclusion 
is drawn, perhaps with precifely the fame degree of con- 
viction: for no general truth is more evident than any 
particular truth comprehended in it. 
• All the -refinements of philofophy can add nothing to 
the clearnefs and certainty, w ith which the mind perceives 
that an effect fuppofes a caufe ; that an action implies an 
agent ; and that appearances of defign and contrivance in 
any production with a view to fome end, are unqueftion- 
able indications of the exigence of fome being, who was 
poffeffed of intelligence and ikill equal to the effect pro- 
duced. -Norcaaall the fubtleties of metaphyseal fophif- 
try deftroy the perception which the mind has of thefe re- 
lations, or render their exiitence problematical. The moft 
uncultivated underitanding muft fee, and the moft inge- 
nious fceptic will find it impoffible on any ground of folid 
argument to deny, that every work which bears evident 
marks of defign, and is adapted to anfwer fomepurpofe, 
.muft be produced by an intelligent caufe. 

Apply this obvious principle to the great operations of 
nature. Obferve,for example, the ftructure and growth 
of a plant. Remark the variety of delicate fibres of which 
it iseompofed,thediftinct forms of the feveral parts, their 
mutual relations, the regular. and complete whole which 
is produced by their combination, and the provifrtfri which. 
is made for their production, nourishment, and growth. 
Contemplate the amazing diverfity of genera and fpecies, 
and the nice gradations from one genus, and from one 
fpecies to another, which the Scientific ftudy of this part 
.of nature has difcovered. From the vegetable, tarn 
your attention to the animal world ; and obferve, display- 
ed in a -frill more wonderful manner, perfection of form. 
variety of fpecies, and mutual relation and dependence. 
Behold every animal provided with abundant, internal 
fources, and external means of life and enjoyment. Survey 
tlie curious ftructure of that complex machine, the animal 
body, in which the feveral parts are exactly adjufted to 

each 



Chap. II. ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. V17 

each other, and combined in the molt perfect harmony, 
10 carry on the i'everal functions of animal life. Recol- 
lect that combinations of thefe materials, fimilar in the 
great outline, but infinitely divernfied in the ftibordinate - 
parts, form that countlefs multitude of animals which 
people the earth. 

After this general review of the productions of nature, 
let reafon judge, whether fuch regular yet dryerfined 
forms could be produced, without the agency of a defigri • 
iiig intelligence. Jf the ear be admirably conitracied for 
hearing, and the eye for feeing, the ear and the eye were 
finely formed by a Being who intended that aniniala 
ihould hear and fee — that is, are the effect of an intelligent 
caufe. It ftiquld feem impoffible to obferve, in thefe and 
other inftances, the tendencies of the various parts of na- 
ture to accomplifh certain ends, without the fulled con- 
viction, that there is fome active Power or Being, by whom 
thefe ends are perceived, and who conducts the opera- 
tions of nature with the intention of accomplimingthein. 
Upon every page in the volume of nature is "written, in 
characters which all may read and understand, this great 
truth, There is a God. 

C II A P. II. 
ON DISINTERESTED FRIENDSHIP. 

I am informed that certain Greek writers (VhUofopher^ 
it feems, in the opinion of their countrymen) have ad- 
vanced fome very extraordinary pofitions relating to 
friendmip; as, indeed, what fubject is there, which thefe 
fabtle geniufes have not tortured with their fophiitry r 

The authors to whom I refer, ditTuade their d'ifciples 
from entering into aiiyftrong attachments, as unavoidably 
crcat iri'g fupernumerary diiquietudes to thofe who engage 
iu them : and as every man has more than mfTIcieiit to call 
Iv.rth his folicitude; in the courfe ofhis own affairs, it 15 
a weaknefs, they contend, anxioufiy to involve himfelf in 
the concerns of others. They recommend it alio, in all 

c i< connections 



128 ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES, Book III. 

connections of this kind, to hold the bands of union ex- 
tremely loofe; fo as always to have it in one's power to 
ftraiten or relax them, as circumftances and fituatiorts 
mall render moll expedient. They add, as a capital ar- 
ticle of their doctrine, that " to live exempt from cares, 
is aneffential ingredient to conftitute human happinefs ; 
but an ingredient, however, which he who voluntarily dif- 
treffes himfelf with cares in which he has no neceffary and 
perfonal interefr, muft never hope to poffefs." 

I have been told likewife, that there is another fet of 
pretended philofophers of the fame country, whole teneis 
concerning this fubject are of a ftill more illiberal and 
ungenerous caft. 

The propofition they attempt t*> eftablifh is, that 
" friendfhip is an affair of felf-intereft entirely, and that 
the proper motive for engaging in it is, not in order I© 
gratify the kind and benevolent affections, but for the be- 
nefit of that affiftance and fupport which is to be derived 
from the connection." Accordingly they affert, that thofe 
perfons are moll difpofed to have recourfe to auxiliary al- 
liances of this kind, who are leail qualified by nature, or 
fortune, to depend upon their own ltrength and powers ; 
the weaker fex, for inftance, being generally more inclined 
to engage in friendmips, than the male part of our fpecies; 
and thofe who are depreffed by indigence,or labouring un- 
der misfortunes, than the wealthy and the profpere ;;s. 

Excellent and obliging fages thefe, undoubtedly \ To 
ftrike out the friendly affections from the moral world, 
would-be like extinguiming the fun in the natural; each. 
of them being the fource of the bell and moil grateful 
fatisfaclions that Heaven has conferred on the fons of 
men. But I mould be glad to know what the real value 
of this boafted exemption from care, which they prrwnife 
their difciples, juftly amounts to ? an exemption flatter- 
ing to felf-love, I confefs ; but which, upon many occur- 
rences in human life, mould be rejecled with the utmoft 
difdain. For nothing, furely,, dan be more inconfiflent 

witk 



Chap. II. ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. iQy 

with a well-pQifed awd manly fpirit, than to decline en- 
gaging in any laudable action, or to be difcouraged 
from perfevefing in it. by an apprehenfion of the trouble 
and folieitude with which it may probably be attended. 
Virtue henelf, indeed, ought to be totally renounced, 
if it be right to avoid every poffible means that may be 
productive of uneafmefs : for who that is actuated by her 
principles can obferve the conduct of an oppofite cha- 
racter, without being affected with fome degree of fecret 
diffatisfaction ? Are not the jdft, the brave, and the 
good, necefiarily expofed to the difagreeable emotions 
of diflike and aversion, when they refpectively meet with 
inftances of fraud, of cowardice, or of villain}' ? It is 
an effential property of every well-conftituted mind, to 
be affected with pain, or pleafure, according t6 the na- 
ture of thofe moral appearances that prefent themfelves 
to obfervation. 

If fenfibility, therefore, be not incompatible with true 
wifdom* (and it furely is not, unlefs we fuppofg that 
philofophy deadens every finer feeling of our nature), 
what juft reafon can be aliigned, yphy the fympathetic 
fufferings which may refult from friendfhip -mould be 
afuiticient inducement for baniihing that generous af- 
fection from the human brcafc I Extinguifh all emotions 
of the heart; and what difference will remain (I do not 
fay between man and brute, but) between man and a 
mere inanimate clod ? Away, then, with thofe auftere 
philofophers, who rep refent virtue as hardening the foul 
againft all the fofter impreffioris of humanity \ The fact, 
certainty, is much otherwife : a truly good man is upon 
many occafions extremely fufceptible of tender fenti- 
ments; and his heart, expands with joy, or ih rinks with 
forrow, as good or ill fortune accompanies his friend. 
Upon the whole, ffe'en, it may fairly be concluded, that as 
in the cafe of virtue, fo in that of friendship, thole painful 
fenfations which may fometimes be produced by the one,' 
>as well as by the other, are equally infumcient grounds 

G 5 for 



130 ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. Book IH. 

for excluding either of them from taking poffclTion of 
our bofomB. 

They who infift thajt " utility is the. firft and prevail- 
ing motive, which induces mankind to enter into parti- 
cular friend/hips," appear to me to diveft the aflbciation 
of its moft amiable and engaging principle. For to a 
mind rightly difpofed, it is not fo much the benefits re- 
ceived, as the affectionate zeal from which they flow, 
that gives them their belt and mo ft valuable recommen- 
dation. It is fo far indeed from being verified by facl, 
that a fenfe of our wants is the original caufe of forming 
thefe amicable alliances; that, on the contrary, it is de- 
ferrable, that none have been more riiftinguimed in their 
friendfhips than thefe whofe power and opulence, but, 
above all, whofe fuperior virtue (a much firmer fupport), 
have raifed them above every neceffity of having recourse 
to the afnftance of others. 

The true distinction, then, in this quefiion is, that 
'* although friendfhip is certainly productive of utility, 
yet utility is not the primary motive of friendship." 
Thofe felfifh fenfualifts therefore, who, lulled in the lap 
of luxury, prefume to maintain the reverfe, hive furelv 
no claim to attention; as they are .neither-qualified by 
reflection., nor experience, to be competent judges of the 
lubjecl. 

Good Gods! is there a man upon the face of the 
earth, who .would deliberately accept of ail the wealth 
and all the affluence this world can beftow, if offered to 
him upon the fevere terms of his being unconnected with 
a fingle mortal whom he could love, or by whom he 
ihould be beloved ? This would be to lead the wretched 
life of a detefted tyrant, who, amidft perpetual fufpicions 
aijd alarms, paffes his miferable days, a ftranger to ewery 
tender fentiment, and utterly precluded from the heart- 
( )J£ti fatisfa&ion of frie..ufhip. Cicero. 



Chap. III. ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. 131 

C II A P. III. 

THE FOLLY OF INCONSISTENT 
- EXPECTATIONS. 

This world may beccnfidered as a great mart of com- 
merce, where fortune expofes to our view various com* 
modifies, riches, eafe, tranquillity, fame, integrity, know- 
ledge. Every thing is marked at a fettled price. Our time, 
our labour, our ingenuity, is fo much ready money, which 
we arc to lay out to the beft advantage. Examine, cora- 
pnre, choofe, reject; but fraud to your own judgment; 
and do not, like children, when you have purchafcd one 
thing, repine that you do not poiTefs another which vou 
did not pupchafe.. Such is the force of well-regulated in- 
cinftry,thataileady and vigorous exertion of our faculties, 
directed to one end, will generally infure fueeefs. Would 
you, for hi Hance, be rich ? Do you think that hngie 
point worth the faeriheing everything eife too? You may 
then Le rich. Thoufands have become fo, from the lowed 
beginnings, by toil and patient diligence, and attention 
to the minuted articles of expenfe and profit. But vou 
mud give up the pleafures of leifure, of a vacant mind, 
of a free unfufpicious temper. If yon preferve your in- 
tegrity, it muft be a coarfe-fpan and vulgar honeftv. 
Tliofe high and lofty notions of morals, which vou 
brought with you from the fchools, muft be conliderably 
lowered, and mixed with the baler alloy of a je: 
and worldly-minded prudence. You muft learn to do 
hard, if not unjuil, things; and for the nice embarraii- 
ments of a delicate and ingenuous fpirit, it is neceiTary 
.ou to get rid of them as fail as poilible. You muft 
flmt your heart againii the Mufes, and be content to 
feed your underfianding with plain houfehold truths. In 
t, you mult not attempt to enlarge your ideas, "cr 
[h your tafto, or refine your fenfeimtnts ; but mull 
6 6 keei) 



132 ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. Book ITT. 

keep on in one beaten track, without turning afidc either 
to the right hand or, to the left. — " But I cannot fubmit 
to drudgery like this — I feel a fpirit above it." Tis 
well; be above it then; only do not repine that you are 
not rich. 

Is knowledge the pearl of price? That too may be 
purchafed — by fteady application, and long folitary hours 
of fludy and reflection. Bellow thefe, and you fhall be 
wife. " But" (fays the man of letters) " what a hard- 
fhip is it that many an illiterate fellow, who cannot 
conflrue the motto of the arms on his coach, mall raife 
a, fortune and make a figure, while I have little more 
than the common conveniences of life ?" Was it in order 
to raife a fortune, that you confumed the fprightly hours 
of youth in ftudy and retirement ? Was it to be rich, 
that you grew pale over the midnight lamp, and diftilled 
the fweetnefs from the Greek and Roman fpring? You 
have then miilaken your path, and ill-employed your in- 
duftry. " What reward have I then for all my labours ?" 
What reward! A large comprehenfive foul, well purged 
from vulgar fears, and perturbations, and prejudices; 
able to comprehend and interpret the works of man— of 
God. A rich, flourifhing, cultivated mind, pregnant 
with inexhauftible ftores of entertainment and reflection* 
A' perpetual fpring of frefh ideas; and the confcious 
dignity of fuperior intelligence. Good Heaven ! and 
what reward can you afk befides ? 

" But is it not fome reproach upon the economy of 
"Providence, that fuch a one, who is a mean di»ty fellow, 
ihould have amaffed wealth enough to buy half a nation ?" 
Not in the lead. He made himielf a mean dirty fellow 
for that very end. He has paid his health, his confcience, 
his liberty for it: and will you envy him his bargain ? 
Will you hang your head and blufh in his pretence, 
becaufe he outmines you in equipage and ihow ! Lift 
up your brow with a noble confidence, and fay to your- 

felf, 



Chap. HI: ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. IS3 

felf, " I have not tbefe things, it is true; but it is be-, 
caufe I have not fought, becauie I have not defired them; 
it is becaufe I poffefs fomething better: I have choien 
my lot: I am content and fatisfied." 

You are a modeit man — you love quiet and indepen- 
dence, and have a delicacy and referee in your temper, 
which renders it impoffible for you to elbow your way in 
the world, and be the herald of your own merits. Be 
content then with a modeit retirement, with the efleein 
of your intimate friends, with the praifes of a blamelefs 
heart, and a delicate ingenuous fpirit; but refign the 
fplendid diftinelions of the world to thofe who can bet- 
ter fcramble for them. 

The man, whofe tender fenfibility of conscience and 
Uriel regard to the rules of morality make him fcrupu- 
lous and fearful of offending, is often beard to complain 
of the disadvantages he lies under in every path of honour 
and profit. " Could I but get oyer feme nice points, 
and conform to the practice and opinion of thofe about 
me, I might fiand as fair a chance as others for dignities 
and preferment/'' And why can you not ? What hin- 
ders you from difeharging this troublefome'fcrupulonty 
of yours, which ftands fo grievouily in your wav ? If 
it be a fmall thing to enjoy a healthful mind, found 
at the very cere, that does not mrink from the keened 
infpeclion ; inward freedom from remorfe and perturba- 
tion ; unfullied whitenefs and fimplicity of manners ; a, 
genuine integrity, 

Pure in the laft recenes of the mind ; 

"if you think thefe advantages an inadequate recompenfe 
for what you refign, difmifs your fcrupies this inilant, and 
be a flave-merchant, a -director, or — -what you pleafe. 

Mrs. BakBaxjld, 



134 ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. Book III. 

CHAP. IV. 
THE PERFECTION OF HUMAN NATURE. 
Ask for what end the heav'nly bodies mine, 
Earth for whofe ufe ? Pride anfwers, " 'Tis for mine: 
For me, kind Nature wakes her genial pow'r, 
Suckles each herb, and fpreads out ev'ry flow'r; 
Annual for me, the grape, the rofe, renew 
The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew; 
For me, the mine a thoufand treafures brings ; 
For me, health gumes from a thoufand fprings; 
Seas roll to waft me, funs to light ine rife : 
My footfrool earth, my canopy the fides." 

But errs not Nature from this gracious end, 
From burning funs when livid deaths defcend, 
"When earthquakes (wallow, or when tempefts fweep 
Towns to one grave, whole nations to the deep ? 
" No ('tis replied) the firft Almighty Caufe 
Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws ; 
Th' exceptions few ; fome change fince all began : 
And what created perfect?" — Why then Man ? 
If the great end be human happinefs, 
Then Nature deviates; and can Man do lefs ? 
As much that end a conftant courfe requires 
Of fhow'rs and funmine, as of Man's. defires; 
As much eternal fprings and cloudlets fkies, 
As Men for ever temp' rate, calm, and wife. 
If plagues or earthquakes break not Ueav'n's defign, 
Why then a Borgia, or a Catiline ? 
Who knows but He, whofe hands the lightning forms, 
Who heaves old Ocean, and who wings the florins ; 
Pours fierce Ambition in a Casfar's mind, 
Or turns young Ammon loofe to fcourge mankind ? 
From pride, from pride, our very reas'ning fprings; 
Account for moral, as for nat'ral things : 
Why charge we Heav'n in thofe, in thefe acquit ? 
In both, to reafon right is to fubmit. 

Better 



CtfAP. IV. ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. 135 

Better for Us, perhaps, it might appear, 
e there are all harmony, all virtue here; 

That never air or ocean felt the wind; 

never pafBon difcompos'd. the mind. 

But all fubfifts by elemental ibiie; 

And Paffions are the elements of Life. 

The general Order, fince the whole began, 

Is kfcpt in Nature, and is kept in Man. 

What would this Alan ? Now upward will he ffi 

And, little leis than Angel, would be more ; 

Now looking downwards, j u it as griev'd appears 

To want the ftrejjgth of bulls, the fur of bears. 

Made for his ufe all creatures if he call, 

Say what their ufe, had he the powers of all ? 

Nature to thefe, without profunon, kind, 

The proper organs, proper pow'rs afligned; 

Each feeming want compenfated ofcourfej 

Here with degrees of fwiftnefs, there of force; 

All in exact proportion to their irate; 

Nothing to add, and nothing to abate. 

Each bealt, each infect, happy in its own : 

[s lieav'n unkind to Man, and Man alone r 

Shall he alone, whom rational we call, 

lie pleas'd with nothing, if not blefs'd with all ? 
The blifs of Man (could pride that bleGing. find) 

Is not to act or think beyond his kind; 

No pow'rs of bod}' or of foul to fhare, 

But what his nature and his ftate can bear. 

Why has not Man a microfcopic eye ? 

For this plain reafon, Man is not a fly. 

Say what the ufe, were finer optics giv'n, 

T' infpect a mite, not comprehend the Heav'n ? 

Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er, 

To fmart and agonize at ev'rv pore ? 

Or quick effluvia darting through the brain, 

Die of a rofe in aromatic pain ? 

If nature thunder'd in his op'ning ears, 

And fmnn'd him withjhe mufic of the fpheres, 

How 



136 ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. Book III. 

How would be wifli that Heav'n had left him ftill 

The whifpering zephyr, and the purling rill ! 

Who finds not Providence all good and wife, 

Alike in what it gives, and what denies ? Pope. 



CHAP. V. 



AGAINST SELFISHNESS. 

Has God, thou fool! work'd folely for thy good, 
Thy joy, thy paftime, thy attire, thy food ? 
Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn, 
For him as kindly fpread the flow'ry lawn : 
Is' it for thee the lark afcends and fmgs? 
Joy tunes his" voice, joy elevates his wings. 
Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat ? 
Loves of his own, and raptures fwell the note. 
The bounding fteed you pompoufty beftride, 
Shares with his lord the pleafure and the pride. 
Is thine alone the feed that ftrews the plain ? 
The birds of heav'n mall vindicate their grain. 
Thine the full harveft of the golden year ? 
Part pays, and juftly, the deferving ileer: 
The hog, that ploughs not, nor obeys thy call, 
Lives on the labours of this lord of all. 

Know, Nature's children all divide her care; 
The fur that warms a monarch, warm'd a bear. 
While Man exclaims, f See all things for my ufe \" 
H See man for mine!" replies apamper'd goofe: 
And juil as fhort of reafon he mufl fall, 
Who thinks all made for one, not one for all. 

Grant that the powerful ftill the weak control ; 
Be Man the wit and tyrant of the whole : 
Nature that tyrant checks ; he only knows, 
And helps another creature's wants and woes, - 

Say, 



Chat. V. ARGUMENTATIVE PIECES. 13? 

Say, will the falcon, Hooping .from above, 

Srnit with her varying plumage, i'pare the dove ? 

Admires the jay the infec't's gilded wings; 

Or hears the hawk when Philomela fmgs ? 

Man cares for all: to birds he gives his woods, ■ 

To beafts his paftures, and to fifh his "Hoods; 

For fome his int'relt prompts him to provide, 

For more his pleaiure, yet for more his pride: 

All feed on one vain patron, and enjoy 

Th' extenfive blemng of his luxury. 

That very life his learned hunger craves, 

lie laves from famine, from the favage laves; 

Nay, feafts the animal he dooms his feaft, 

And, 'till he ends the being, makes it bleft; 

Vv'hich fees no more the ftroke, or feels the pain, 

Than favoured Man by touch ethereal flahn 

The creature had his feafi of lite before; 

Th©u too muft periih, when thy feaft U o'ur I Po?£» 



BOOK IV. 

ORATIONS. axd HARANGUES, 

CHAP. L 4 

MANLIUS to HIS SON. 

Since you, TituS Mahlius, forgetful of the reverence 

clue to the coniular and paternal authority, have foi 
with the enemy out of your rank, contrary to our exprefs 
command, and thereby, as far as in you lay, have dinolv- 
ed that military difcipline which has hitherto fupported 
the lloman ftate, and have reduced rac to the necdnty of 
difregarding either the public or my own family; it is 
juft that we fhould fuffer for our own crime, rather than 
that the commonwealth fliould pay the. forfeit for us, to 
its own great detriment. We mail afford a fad but falu- 
tary example to the youth of future times. I cannot but 
be moved on this occafion, not only on account of the 
natural affection which every man bears to his children, 
but through regard to that fpecimen of early valour you 
have exhibited, though deceived by a falfe appearance of 
glory. Yet, fmce the confular authority is either to re- 
ceive a perpetual fanclion by your death, or to be for ever 
abrogated by your impunity ; I cannot fuppofe that even 
yourfelf, if any of my blood flows in your veins, would 
refufe to repair by your punifhment that breach in mili- 
tary difcipline which your fault has made. Go", lienor, 
bind him to the {take. Livy. 



CHAT. II. 

MUCIUS SCi-VOLA to KING POR8ENA. 

I am a Roman citizen — my name, Mucins. 'My pur- 
pose was to kill an enemy'. Nor am I lefs prepared to 
6 unci 



Chap. III. D1UTIONS akd HARANGUES. 139- 
unik pumulment, than I was to perpetrate the 

deed. To do and to furler bravely, is a Roman's part. 
Neither am I the only perfon thus affecled towards 3-011, 
There is a long lift of competitors for the fame honour. 
If, therefore, you choofe to confront the danger of letting 
your life every hour at hazard, prepare yourfelf — you 
will have the foe in the very porch of your palace. This 
is the kind of war that the Roman youth declare againft 
you. You have nothing to fear in the field. The com- 
bat is againft you alone, and every individual is your 
ftntaaonift. : ' Livy. 



CHAP, III. 

SOPHONISBA to MASSINISSA. 

The will of the gods, your valour, and good fortune, 
have this day put us entirely in your power. But if it be 
permitted a captive to lift up a fupplicating voice to the 
lord of her life, to embrace his knees, and touch his con- 
quering hand, I beg and intreat,by the regal dignity which 
we, too, lately po ffeffed ; by the Numidian name, which 
Svphax fhared with you; by theDeities of this royal 
manfion, (may they prove more propitious to you than 
they have to him !) that you would grant this one favour 
to a wretched fuppliant : not to fubjecl me to the cruel 
and imperious dominion of a Roman ; but to determine 
the fate of your prifoner according to your own plea- 
fure. Had I been no other than the wife of Syphax, I 
would rather commit myfelf to the faith of a Numidian, 
and, like myfelf, a native of Africa,, than to that of a 
itranger and a foreigner. What a Carthaginian, what the 
daughter of Afdrubal has to apprehend from a Roman, 
yourfelf may judge, Oh ! }t it be no other wife poflible* 
deliver. me. 1 befeecli and implore you, from the Roman 
power, by death. Ljyy, 



HO ORATIONS and HARANGUES. Book IV. 

CHAP. ■ IV. 

# SCIPIO to the ROMANS. 

On this day, tribunes and Roman citizens ! I gained a 
f gnal victory in Africa over Hannibal and the Carthagi- 
nians. Since, then, fuch. a day ought to be free from itrife 
and litigation, I /hall immediately go from hence to the 
Capitol to pay my adorations to the higheil Jove, to Juno, 
Minerva, and the other deities who prehde over the facred 
citadel; and Ifhall return them thanks, that both on this 
day, and many times befide, they have infpired me with 
the fpirit and ability of doing effential fervice to the re- 
public. Let fuch of you, too, as have leifure, accom- 
pany me; and pray the gods that you may ever, have 
leaders like myfelf. For, as from the term of feventeen 
years to the decline of life, you have always outgone my 
age by the'honours conferred on me, fo I have anticipated 
your honours by my aclions. Livy. 

CHAP. V. 
DEMOSTHENES to the ATHENIANS 

AGAINST PHILIP. 

« 

Had we been convened, Athenians ! on fome new 
fabjecr. o# debate, I had waited until moft of the ufual 
perfons had declared their opinions. If I had approved of 
any thing propofed by them, I fliould have continued 
filsnt: if not, I had then attempted to fpeak my fenti- 
ments. But fince thofe very points on which thefe fpeak- 
ers have oftentimes been heard already, are at this time 
to be confidered ; though I have arifen firft, I prefume I 
may expecl; your pardon ; for if they on former occasions 
bad advifed the necefiary meafures, you would not have 
found it needful to confult at prefent. 

Firft, then, Athenians ! thefe our affairs mull not be 
thought defperate : no, though their fituation feems en- 
tirely 



Chat. V. ORATIONS and HARANGUES. 141 
tirelv deplorable. For the, molt fliockmg circumftanceof 
all our palt conduct, is really the mOft favourable to our 
future expectations. And what is this ? That our own 
total indolence hath been the caufe of all our prefent 
difficulties. For were we thus diitreffed, in fpite of 
every vigorous effort which the honour of our ft ate de- 
manded, there were then no hope of a recovery. 

In the next place, reflect (you who have been informed 
by others, and } r ou who can yourfelves remember) how 
great a power the Lacedemonians not long fmce pod efTed.; 
and with what refolution, with what dignity you difdain- 
ed to act unworthy of the ftate, but maintained the war 
againit them for the rights of Greece. Why do I mention 
thefe things ? That you may know, that you may fee, 
Athenians ! that if duly vigilant, you can have nothing 
to fear ; that if once remifs, nothing can happen agreeable 
t® your defires; witnefs the then powerful arms of Lace- 
demon, which a juft attention to your interefts enabled 
yeu to vanquim : and this man's late mfclcnt attempt, 
which our infenfibility to all our. great concerns hath 
made the caufe of this confufion. 

If there is a man in this aflembly who thinks that we 
muft rind a formidable enemy in Philip, while he views, on 
one hand, the numerous armies which furround him, and 
on the other the weaknefsof the Hate thus defpoiledof its 
dominions, he thinks juftly. Yet let him reflect on this: 
there was a time, Athenians ! when we poffefled Pydna, 
and Potidaea, and Methone, and all that country round ; 
when many of the ftates now fubjecled to him were free 
ancl independent, and more inclined to our alliance than 
to his. Had then Philip reafoned in the fame manner, 
" How fhall I dare to attack the Athenians, whofe garri- 
u fons command my territory, while I am deftitute of all 
" affiftance !" he would not have engaged in thofe enter- 
prifes which are now crowned with fuccefs : nor could he 
have raifed himfelf to this pitch of greatnefs. No, Athe- 
nians I he knew this well, that all thefe places are but 

prizes, 



142 ORATIONS and HARANGUES. Book IV. 
prizes, laid between the combatants, and ready for the 
conqueror: that the dominions of the abfent devolve; 
naturally to thofe who are in the field ; the pofleiTions ot' 
the lupine to the aclive and intrepid. Animated by thefe" 
lentiments,he overturns whole nations; he holds all peo- 
ple in fubjecnon : fome,by the right of conqueft; other*, 
under the title of allies and confederates , for all are will- 
ing to confederate with thofe whom they fee prepared 
and refolyed to exert themfelves as they ought. 

And if you, my countrymen ! will not at length be 
perfuaooi to entertain the like fentiments: if each of 
you, renouncing all evafions, will be ready to approve 
himfelf a ufeful citizen, to the utirioft that his nation 
and abilities demand; if the rich will be ready to con- 
tribute, and the young to take the field; in one word, if 
you will be yourfelves, and baiiifh thofe vain hopes which 
every fingle perfon entertains, that while fo many others 
are engaged in public bufmefs, his femce will not be re- 
quired ; you then (if Heaven fo pleafes) will regain y ur 
dominions, recal thofe opportunities your fupinenefs bath 
neglected, and chaftife the infolence of this man. For 
yeu are not to imagine that, like a god, he is to enjoy his 
prefent greanefs for ever fixed and unchangeable. No, 
Athenians ! there are who hate him, who fear him, who 
envy him, even among thofe feemingly the moll attached 
to his caufe. Thefe are paflions common to mankind: 
nor muil we think that his friends only are exempted 
from them. It is true they lie concealed at prefent. as 
our indolence deprives them of all refource. But let us 
make off this indolence ! for you fee how we are fituated : 
3'ou fee the outrageous arrogance of this man, who does 
notleave it to your choice whether you ihall act, or re- 
main quiet; but braves you with his menaces, and talks 
(as we are informed) in a ftrain of the higheft extrava- 
gance, and is not able to reft fatisiied with his prefent ac- 
quifitions, but is ever in purfuit of farther conqueits ; and - 
while we fit down, inactive and irrefolute, enclofes us on 
all fides with his toils. 

Whe» 



Chap.Y. ORATIONS ajt-d HARANGUES. 143 
Wjien, therefore, O my countrymen ! when will you' 
exert your vigour ? When roufed by fome event ? When 
.1 by fume nceeility ? What then are we to think of 
our preient condition ? To free men* the disgrace attending 
oti miicondact is, in my opinion, the moft urgent neceffit}' - . 
Or iav, is it your fole ambition to wanner through the 
public place.-, one inquiring 01 another, " What news V* 
Can anv thing be more new than that a man of Macedoa 
ihould conquer the Athenians, and give law to Greece ? — 
u Is Philip dead? — No, but in great danger. — How are- 
you concerned in thofe rumours ? Suppofe he mould meet 
ibme fatal ftroke : you would foon ratfe up another Philip, 
if vour intereils are thus difregarded. For it is not to his 
own itrength that he lb much owes his elevation, as to our 
fupinenefs. And mould fome accident affect him, mould 
fortune., who hath ever been more careful of the itate, than 
we ourfelves, now repeat her favours; (and may (he thus 
crown them !) be affured of this, that by being on the fpot, 
ready to take ad vantage of the confufion, you will every 
where be abfolute mailers : but in your preient difpofition, 
even if a favo-urable juncture fhould prefent you with Am- 
phipolis, you could not take pofTemon of it, while this 
fufpenfe prevails in your deligns and in your councils. 

Some wander about, crying, Philip hath joined with the 
Lacedemonians, and they are concerting the deftruclion of 
Thebes, and the diflblution of fome free ftates. Others' 
allure us, he hath lent an embafly to the king; others,that 
he is fortifying places, in Illyria. Thus we all go about 
framing our feveral tales. I do believe, indeed, Atheni- 
ans ! he is intoxicated with his greatnefs, and does enter- 
tain his imagination with many fuch viiionary profpecls, 
as he fees no power rifing to oppofe him, and is elated 
with his fuccefs. But I cannot be perfuaded that he hath 
fo taken his meafures, that the weaken" among us know, 
what he is next to do ; for it is the weakefc among us who 
fpreadthefe rumours. — Let us difregard them: let us be 
perfuaded of this; that he is our enemy, that he hath- 

fpoiled 



,IU ORATIONS and HARANGUES. Rook IV. 
fpoiled us of our dominions, that we have long been fub- 
jecl to his iniblerice, that whatever we expected to be done 
for us by others, hath proved againft us, and that all the 
refource left is in ourfelves, that if we are not inclined to 
carry our arms abroad, we may be forced to engage him 
here — let us be perfuaded of this, and then we mall come 
to a proper determination, then we fhall be fvQcd frbm 
thefe idle tales. For we are not to be folicitous to know 
what particular events will happen ; we need but be con- 
vinced nothing good can happen, unlei's you grant the 
due attention to affairs, and.be ready to act as becomes 
Athenians. . Demosthenes. 

C II A P. VI. 

DEMOSTHENES to the ATHENIANS, concern- 
ing the REGULATION of' the STATE. 

Ycu afk, Athenians, " What real advantage have we 
•derived from the fpeeches of Demofthenes ? I le riles when 
he thinks proper: he deafens us with his harangues: lie- 
declaims agaiuft the degeneracy of the prefent times: he 
tells us of the virtues of our anccltors: he tranfports us 
by his airy extravagance : lie pull's up cur vanity: and then 
fits down." — But, could thefe my fpeeches once gain an 
effectual influence upon your minds, fo great would be the 
advantages conferred upon my country, that were I to 
attempt to fpeak to them, they would appear to many as 
vifionary. Yet ftill I muft afilime'the merit of doing 
fome fervice, by accuftoming you to hear falutary truths. 
And if your counfeilors be folicitous for any point of 
moment to their country, let them firft cure your ears; 
for they are diftempered : and this from the inveterate 
habit of liftening to falfehoods, to every thing rather than 
your real interefts. 

Thus it lately happened— Let no man interrupt me : 

let me have a patient hearing — that fome perfons broke 

into the treafury. The fpeakers ail initantly exclaimed. 

5 " Our 



Cisap. VI. ORATIONS and HARANGUES. 145 

•* Our free conftitution is overturned : our laws are no 
more." — And now ye men of Athens ! judge, if I fpeak 
with reafon. They, who are guilty of this crime, juftly 
deferveto die ; but by fuch offenders our conrti.utijn is 
■not overturned. Again, fomeoars have beenftolen from 
our arfenal. — " Stripes and tortures for the villain! our 
conititution is fubverted \" This is the general cry. 
what is my opinicn ? This criminal, like the others, has 
deferved to die; but if fome are criminal, our conititution 
is not' therefore fubverted. There is no man who dares 
©penly and boldly to declare, in what cafe our conftitutiou 
is fubverted. But I mall declare it. When you, Athe- 
nians! become ahelplefa rabble, without conduct, without 
property, without arms, without order, without unanimi- 
ty ; when neither your general, nor any other perfon, has 
the laaft refpecl for your decrees :- when no man dares to 
inform you of this your condition, to urge the neeeffary 
.reformation, much kfs to exert his effort to effect it ; then. 
is your conftitution fubverted. And this is now the cafe. 
But, O my fellow-citizens! a language of a different 
nature has poured in upon us; falfe, and highly dan- 
gerous to the Mate. Such is that alferticn, that in your 
tribunals is your great fecurity; thatyour right of fuffrage 
is the real bulwark of the conititution, That thefe tri- 
bunals are our common refource in all private coritelts, 
I acknowledge. But it is by arms we are to fubdue 
our enemies, by arms we are to defend our ftate. It is not 
by our decrees that we can conquer. To thofe, on the 
contrary, who right our battles with fuccefs, to thofe we 
owe the power of decreeing, of tranfacting all our affair* 
without control or danger. In arms then let us be ter- 

hie • in rmr inHirial 



,'j.. 



e; in eur judicial tran factions,, humane. 



If it be obferved, that thefe fentiments are more ele- 
vated than might be expected from my character, the ob- 
fervation, I-confefs, is juft. Whatever is faid about a ftate 
m fuch dignity, upon affairs of fuch importance, lhould 
appear more elevated than any character. To your wortk 
Should it correfpoadj not to that of the fpeaker. 



146- ORATIONS'asd HARANGUES,, Book IV. 
-And now I mall inform you, why none of thofe who 
ftand high in your efteem, fpeak in the. fame manner. 
The candidates forefficeand employment go about foli- 
citing your voices, the flaves of popular favour, To gain 
the rank of general, is each man's great concern ; not to 
fill this ftation with true manlike intrepidity. Courage, 
if he poflefies it, he deems unrteceffary : for thus, he rea- 
sons : he has the honour, the renown of this city to fup- 
port him: he finds himfelf free from oppreffion and con- 
trol, he needs but to amufe you with fair hopes : and, 
^hus, he fecu res a kind of inheritance in your emoluments. 
And he reafons truly. But do you yourfelves once af- 
fume the conduct of your own affairs : and then as you 
take an equal mare of duty, fo mall you acquire an equal 
fhare of glory. Now, your minifters and public fpeakers, 
without one thought of directing you faithfully to your ' 
true interefts, refign themfelves entirely to thefe generals. 
Formerly you divided into claffes, in order to raife the 
fupplies : now the bufinefs of the claffes is to gain the 
management of public affairs. The orator is the leader; . 
the general feconds his attempts ; the Three Hundred 
are the affiftants on each fide ; and all others take their 
parties, and ferveto fill up the feveraHactions. And you 
fee the' confequences : this man gains a ftatue ; *this 
amaffes a fortune ; one or two command the flate ; while 
you fit down unconcerned witnefies of their fuccefs; and, 
for an uninterrupted courfe of eafe and indolence, give 
them up thofe great and glorious advantages, which 
really belong to you. Demosthenes. 

CHA P. VII. 
MICIPSA to JUGURTHA. 

You know Jugurtha-! that I received you under my 
protection in your early youth, when left a feelplefs and 
hopUefo orphan, I advanced you to high honours in my 
kingdom; ia the full ail urauce that you would prove 

grateful 



Chap. VII. ORATIONS and HARANGUES. 147 
grateful for my kipdnefs to you ; and that if I came to 
have children of my own, you would ftudy to repay to 
them, what you owed to me. Hitherto I have had no 
reafon to repent of my favours to^you. For, to omit al 
former inftances of youi extraordinary merit, your late 
behaviour in the Numantian war has reflected upon me, 
and my kingdom, a new and diitinguifiVd glory. You 
have, by your valour, rendered the Raman common- 
wealth, which before was well affected to our intereir, 
much more friendly. In Spain, you have railed the ho- 
nour of my name and crown. And you have furmcunt- 
ed what is juftly reckoned one of the greater! difficulties ; 
having, by your merit, filenced envy. My diflblution 
feems now to be fait approaching, I therefore befeech 
and conjure you, my dear Jugurtha ! by this right hand ; 
by the remembrance of my paft kindhefs to you ; by the 
honour of my kingdom, and by the majefly of the gods ; 
be kind to my two fens, whom my favour to you has 
made your brothers ; and do not think of forming a 
connection with am T ftranger to the prejudice x>f your 
relations. It is not by arms, nor by treasures, that a 
kingdom is fecured, but by well affecled^fubjecls and al- 
lies. And it is by faithful and important fevices, that 
friendship (which neither gold will purchafe, nor amis 
extort) is fecured. But what friendship is more per- 
fect than that which ought to obtain between brothers? 
Vv'hat fidelity can be expected among ftrangers, if it is 
wanting among relations? The kingdom, I leave you, is 
in good condition, if you govern it properly ; if other-wife, 
it is weak. For -by agreement a fmall ftate increases: 
by divifion, a great one falls into ruin. It will lie upon 
you, Jugurtha ! who are come to riper years, than your 
brothers, to provide that no mifconducr produce any bad 
effefr. And, if any difference mould arife between you 
and your. brothers (which may the gods avert -!) the pub- 
lic will charge you, however innocent you may be, as the 
aggrefior, becaufe your years and abilities give ye v. 
h 2 fuperic i 



IIS ORATIONS and HARANGUES. Book. IY. 
fuperiority. But I firmly perfuade myfelf, that you will 
treat them with kindnefs, and that they will honour and 
«fteem you, u$ your diitinguifhed virtue deferves. 

Sallust. 

CHAP. fill. 

ADHERBAL to the ROMAN SENATE. 

It is known to you, that king Micipfa, my father, on 
his death-bed, left in charge to Jugurtha, his adopted lbn, 
conjointly with my unfortunate brother, Iliempfal, and 
myfelf, the children of his own body, the adminiftration 
of the kingdom of Numidia, directing us to confider the 
fenate and people of Rome, as proprietors of it. Me 
charged us, to ufe our bell endeavours, to be ferviceable 
to the Roman commonwealth, in peace and war : alluring 
us, that your protection would prove to us a defence 
againft all enemies, and would be inftead of armies, for- 
tifications, and treafures* 

While my brother and I were thinking of nothing but 
how we mould regulate ourfelves according to the direc- 
tion of our deceafed father, Jugurtha, the moil infamous 
of mankind ! breaking through all ties of gratitude and 
of common humanity, and trampling on the authority of 
the Roman commonwealth, procured the murder of my 
unfortunate brother, and has driven me from my throne 
and native country; though he knows I inherit, from my 
grandfather Maffinifia, and my father Micipfa, the 
friendship and alliance of the Romans. 

For a prince to be reduced, by villainy, to my dif- 
trefsful circumftances, is calamity enough ; but my mif- 
fortunes are heightened by the confideration, that I 
find myfelf obliged to folicit your affiftance, Fathers, for 
the fervices done you by my anceftors, not for any I 
have been able to render you in my own perfon. Ju- 
gurtha has put it put of my power to deferve any thing 
at your hands ; and has forced me to be burdenfome, 
before 1 could be ufeful to you. And yet, if I had no 
2 plea, 



Chap. VIII. ORATIONS and HARANGUES. Up 
plea, but my undeserved mifery — a once powerful prince, 
the defcendant of a race of illuftnous monarchs, now, 
without any fault of my own, deftitute of every iupport, 
and reduced to the neceflity of begging foreign afMance, 
againft an enemy, who has feized my throne and my 
kingdom — if my unequalled diftrefies were all I had to 
plead ; it would become the greatnefs of the Roman 
commonwealth, the arbiter of the world, to protect the 
injured, and to check the triumph of daring wickedneis 
ever helplefs innocence. But, to provoke your ven- 
geance to the utmoft, Jugurtha has driven me from the 
very dominions which the fenate and people of Rome 
gave to my ancestors ; and from which my grandfather, 
and my father, under your protection, expelled Syphax 
and the Carthaginians. Thus, Fathers, your kindnefs to 
our family is defeated ; and Jugurtha, in injuring me, 
throws contempt on you. 

O wretched prince ! O cruel reverfe of fortune ! Q 
father Micipfa ! Is this the conference of your gene- 
rofity; thathe, whom your goodnefsraifed to an equality 
with your own children, mould be the murderer of your 
children? Muft, then, the royal houfe of Numidia al- 
ways be a fcene of havoc and blood ? While Carthage 
remained, we fuflered, as was to be expected, all forts 
of hardships, from its hoitile attacks ; our enemy near; 
our only powerful ally, the Roman commonwealth, at a 
diftance. While we were fo circumftanced, we were 
always in arms, and in action. When that fcourge of 
Africa- was no more, we congratulated ourfelves on the 
profped of eitabliuied peace. But inftead of peace, 
behold the kingdom of Numidia drenched with royal 
blood ! and the only furviving fon of its late king, flying 
from an adopted murderer, and feeking that fafety in 
foreign parts, which he cannot command in his own 
kingdom ! 

Whither— oh ! whither mail I fly ? If I return to the 

royal palace of my anceftors, my father's throne is feized 

h S by 



150 ORATIONS and HARANGUES. Book IV. 
by the murderer of ray brother. What can I there ex- 
pert, but that Jugurtha mould haften to imbrue, in my 
blood, thofe hands which are now reeking with my 
brother's ? If I were to fly for refuge, or for affritance, to 
, any other court,: from what prince can I hope for pro- 
tection, if the Roman commonwealth give me up r From 
my own family or friends I have no expectations. My 
royal father is no more. He is beyond the reach of 
violence, and out of hearing of the complaints of his 
unhappy fon. Were my brother alive, our mutual fym- 
pathy would be ibme alleviation. But he is hurried out 
of life in his early youth, by the very hand, which mould 
have been the laft to injure any of the royal family of 
Numidia. The bloody Jugurtha has butchered all whom 
he fufpected to be in my intereft. Some have been de- 
stroyed by the lingering torment of the crofs. Others 
have been given a prey to wild beads ; and their anguifh 
made the fport of men, more cruel than wild beafts. If 
there be any yet' alive, they are fhut up in dungeons ; there 
to drag out a life more intolerable than death itfelf. 

Look down, illuftrious Senators of Rome ! from that 
lieight of power to which you are raifed, on the unex- 
ampled diftrefies of a prince, who is, by the cruelty of a 
wicked intruder, become an outcaft from all mankind. 
Let not the crafty infmuations of him, who returns 
murder for adoption, prejudice your judgment. Do not 
liften to the wretch who has butchered the fon and re- 
lations of a king, who gave him power to fit on the fame 
throne with his own children. — I have been informed, 
that he labours, by his emiffaries, to prevent your de- 
termining any thing againft him in h'w> abfence; pretend- 
ing that I magnify my diitrefs; and that I might, for 
'him, have ftaid in peace in my own kingdom. But, if 
ever the time come, when the due vengeance from above 
mail overtake him, he will then diflemble in the very 
fame manner as I do. Then he, who now, hardened in' 
wickednefts, triumphs ever thofe whom his violence has 

laid 



Chap. IX. ORATIONS and HARANGUES. 15,1 

laid low, will, in his turn, feel diftrefs : and" fufTer for 
his impious ingratitude to my father, and his blood-thirity 
cruelty to my brother. 

O murdered, butchered brother ! O deareft. to rrij 
heart ! now gone for ever from my fight ! But, why 
fhould I lament Ins death? He is, indeed, deprived of 
the bleifed light of Heaven, of hie and kingdom, at o'nce, 
by the very perfon, who ought to have been the firft to 
hazard his own life in defence of any one of M'icipfa's 
family: but, as things now are, my brother 'is' not fb 
much deprived of tliefe comforts as delivered from terrour, 
from flight, from exile, and the endleis" train of miferie* 
which render life to me a burden. ' He lies full low, 
' gored with wounds, and fefreringin his own blood: but 
he lies m peace ; he 'feels none of the miferies which 
rend my foul with agony and diitraciion : whilltl am fet 
* vip a fpectacle,, to all mankind, of the uncertainty of 
human affairs. " So far from having it in my power to re- 
venge his death, I am not matter of the means of fecuring 
my own life. 'So far from being in a condition to defend 
my kingdom from the violence of the ufurper, I am obli- 
ged to apply for foreign protection for my own perfon. 
Fathers ! fenators of Rome ! the arbiters of the world ! 
to you I fly, for Tefuge, from the murderous fury of Ju- 
gurtha. m B} T your affection for your children ; by your 
love for your country ; by your own virtues ; by the ma- 
jeftyof the Roman commonwealth; by all that is facred, 
and all that is dear to you; deliver a wretched prince 
from undeterred, unprovoked injury : and fave the king- 
dom of Numidia, which is your own property, from being 
the prey of violence, ufurpation, and cruelty. 

» Sallust. 

C H A P. IX. 
GENERAL WOLFE TO HIS ARMY. 

I congratulate you, my brave countrymen, and 

fellow-fold iers ! on thefpirit and fuccefs with which you 

" 4 kave 



152 ORATIONS and HARANGUES. Book IV. 
.have executed this important part of our enterprife. The 
formidable Heights of Abraham are now furmounted ; and 
the city of Quebec, the object of all our toils, now frauds 
in full view before us. A perfidious enemy, who have 
dared to exaiperate you by their cruelties, but not to 
oppofeyou on equal ground, are now confhained to face 
.you on the open plain, without ramparts or entrench- 
ments to melter them. 

You know too well the farces which compofe their 
army, to dread their fuperior numbers. A few regular 
troops from Old France, weakened by hunger and tick- 
nefs, who, when frefh, were unable to withftand Britiih 
ioldiers, are their General's chief dependence. Thoi'e 
numerous companies of Canadians, infolent, mutinous, 
umteady, and ill disciplined, have exercifed his utmott 
ikill to keep them together to this time ? and as foon as 
their irregular ardour is damped by one firm fire, they 
will inftantly turn their backs, and give you no further 
trouble but in thepurfuit. As for thofe favage tribes of 
Indians, whofe horrid yells .in the forefts have ftruck 
many a bold heart with affright, terrible as they are with 
the tomahawk and fcalping knife to a flying and proftratc 
foe, you have experienced how little their ferocity is to 
be dreaded by refolute men upon fair and open ground : 
you can now only confider them as the juit. obje&s of a 
fevere revenge for the unhappy fate of many fiaughtered 
countrymen. 

This day puts it into your power to terminate the fa- 
tigues of a fiege, which has fo long employed your courage 
and patience. Poflfeffed with a full confidence of the cer- 
tain fuccefs which Britiih valour mult gain over men ene- 
mies, I have led you up thefe fteep and dangerous rock" ; 
only folicitous to mow you the foe within your reach. 
The impofiibility of a retreat make* no difference in the 
fituation of men refolved to conquer or die : and, believe 
me, my friends, if your cxmqueft could be bought with 
the blood of your general, he would moft cheerfully re- 
jfign a life which he has long devoted to his country.. 



: 



Chap. X. ORATIONS and HARANGUES. 153 

C II A P. X, 

TO ART. 

O art ! thou diftinguifhing attribute and honour of 
human kind ! who art not only able to imitate Nature 
in her graces, but even to adorn her with graces of thine 
own ! Pollened of thee, the meaneft genius grows de- 
ferving, and has a juft demand for a portion of our efteem: 
devoid of thee, the brighter!: of our kind lie loft and ufe- 
fefe, and are but poorly diftinguiflied from the moft def- • 
picable and bafe. When we inhabited forefts in com- 
mon with brutes, nor otherwife known from them than 
by the figure of our fpecies, thou taughteft us to aflert 
the fovereignty of our nature, and to affume that em- 
pire, for which Providence intended us. Thoufands of 
utilities owe their birth to thee, thoufands of elegancies, 
pleafures, and joys, without which, life itfelf would be but 
an infipid pofifevTion. 

Wide and extenfive is the reach of thy dominion ! No 
element is there, either fo violent or fo fubtile, fo yield- 
ing or fo fluggith, as, by the powers of its nature, to be 
fuperiour to thy direction. Thou dreadelt not the fierce 
impetuolity of fire, but compelleft its violence to be both 
obedient and ufeful. By it thou fofteneft the ftubborn 
tribe of minerals, fo as to be formed and moulded into 
ihapes innumerable. Hence weapons, armour, coin : and 
previous to thefe and other thy works and energies, 
hence all thole various tools and inftruments, which im- 
power thee to proceed to farther ends more excellent. 
Nor is the fubtile air lefs obedient to thy power ; whether 
thou willeft it to be a minifter to our pleafure, or utility. 
At thy command it giveth birth to founds, which charm 
the foul with all the powers of harmony. Under thy in- 
ftruction it moves the (hips over the leas ; while that 
yielding element, where, otherwife, we fink, even water 
itfelf is, by thee, taught to bear us; the vail ocean to 
H 5 promote 



154 ORATIONS and HARANGUES. Book IV. 
promote that intercourfe of nations, which ignorance 
would imagine it was deftined to intercept. To fay how 
thy influence is feen on earth, would be to teach the 
meaneft what he knows already. Suffice it but to men- 
tion, fields of arable and palture j lawns, and groves, and 
gardens, and plantations; cottages, villages, caftles, 
towns ; palaces, temples, and fpacious cities. 

Nor does thy empire end in fubjecls thus inanimate, 
■Its power alio extends through the various races of ani- 
mals; who either patiently l'ubmit to become thyflaves, 
or are fure to find thee an irre'iliible foe. The faithful 
dog, the patient ox, the generous horfe, and the mighty 
elephant, are content, all, to receive their inftruclions 
from thee, and readily to lend their natural inftin&s or 
ftrength, to perform thofe offices, which thy occafions 
call for. If there be found any fpecies which are Service- 
able when dead, thou fuggefteit the means to ryvettigate 
and take them ; if any be fo favage as to refufe being 
tamed, or of natures fierce enough to venture an attack, 
thou teacheft us to fcorh their brutal rage, to meet, repel, 
purfue, and conquer. 

Such, O Art ! is thy amazing influence, when thou 
art employed only on thefe inferior fubje&s, on natures 
inanimate, or, at befl, irrational ! But whenever thou 
choofeft a fubjecl; more noble, and employeft thyfelk in 
cultivating the mind itfelf, then it is thou becomefl truly 
amiable and divine, the ever-flowing fource of thofe fub- 
limer beauties, of which no Subject, but mind alone, is 
capable. Then it is thou art enabled to exhibit to man- 
kind, the admired tribe of poets and orators ; the facred 
train of patriots and heroes ; the godlike lift of philoso- 
phers and legiflators ; the forms of virtuous and equal po- 
litics, where private welfare is made the fame with pub- 
lic, where crowds themfelves prove difinterefted, and 
virtue is made a national and popular characteristic. 

Hail! 



Chap. XL ORATIONS and HARANGUES. 155 
Hail! facred fource of allthefe wonders! Tbyfelfin- 
ftruct me, to p'raife thee worthily ; through whom, what- 
ever we do, is done with elegance and beauty; .without 
whom, what we do is ever gracelefs and deformed.— ~ 
Venerable power ! by what name mall I addrefs thee ? 
Shall I call thee ornament- of mind, or art' thou more 
truly mind itfelf ? Tis Mind thou art, moll perfect Mind : 
not rude, untaught, but fair and polrfhed : in fuch thou 
dwelleft ; of fueh thou art the form ; nor is it a thing 
more poffible, to feparate thee from fuch, than it would 
be, to feparate thee from thy own exigence. Harris. 

C H A P. , XI. 
TO THE SEA. 

Hail ! thou inexhauftible fource of wonder and con- 
templation ! — Hail ! thou multitudinous ocean ! whofe 
waves chafe one another down like the generations of 
men, and, after a momentary fpace, are immerged for 
ever in oblivion ! — Thy fluctuating waters waih the varied 
mores of the world, and while they disjoin nations, whom 
a nearer connexion would involve in eternal war, they 
circulate their arts and their labours, and give health and 
plenty to mankind. 

How glorious, how awful, are the fcenes thou dif- 
playeft ! — Whether we view thee when every wind is. 
hufhed, — when the morning fun filvers the level line cf 
the horizon — or when its evening track .is marked with 
ilaming gold, and thy unrippled bolbm reflects the radi- 
ance of the overarching Heavens !— Or whether we be- 
hold thee in thy terrours ! when the black tempeft fweeps 
the fwelling billows, and the boiling furge mixes with 
the clouds— when death rides the ftorm, — and humanity . 
drops a- fruitlefs tear for the toiling mariner, whole heart 
is finking with difmay ! 

And yet, mighty deep ! 'tis thy furf ace alone we view— 
Who can penetrate the fecrets of thy wide domain ?-— • 

n 6 What 



156. ORATIONS and HARANGUES. Book IV. 

What eye can vifit thy immenfe rocks and caverns, 
that teem wifh life and vegetation >~— or fearcli out the 
myriads of objects, \yhofe beauties lie icattered over 
thy dread abyfs ? 

The^ mind daggers with the immenfity of her own 
conceptions, — and when (lie contemplates the flux andre- 
ilux of thy tides, which from the beginning of the world 
were never known to err, how does rtie flirink at the idea 
of that Divine Power, which originally laid thy founda- 
tions fo fure, and whofe omnipotent voice hath fixed the 
.limits where thy proud waves (hall be ftayed ! Keat e, 

CHAP, XII. 

JUPITER TO THE INFERIOR DEITIES. * 

Aurora, now, fair daughter of the dawn, 
Sprinkled with rofy light the dewy lawn ; 
When Jove conven'd the fenate of the Ikies,, 
"Where high Olympus' cloudy tops arife. 
The fire of gods his awful filence broke r 
The Heavens,- attentive, trembled as he fpoke. 
* Celeftial ftates ! immortal gods ! give ear : 
Hear our decree; and rev'rence what ye hear : 
The fix'd decree, which not all Heav'n can move.. 
Thou Fate, fulfil it; and ye Powers ! approve. — 
What god fhall enter yon forbidden field, 
Who yields ailiftance, or but wills to yield, 
Back to the ikies, with Ihame he fhall be driv'n, 
Gafh'd with difiioneft wounds, the fcorn of Heav'n : 
Or, from our facred hill, with fury thrown 
Deep, in the dark Tartarian gulf fhall groan ; 
With burning chains ftVd to the brazen floors, 
And lock'd by Hell's inexorable doors; 
As deep beneath th' infernal centre hurl'd, 
As from that centre to th' ethereal world. 
Let each, fubrnillive, dread thofe dire abodes, 
Uor tempt the vengeance of the Cod of gods. 

League 



Chap. XIII. ORATIONS asd HARANGUES. 157 

League all your forces, then, ye pow'rs above : 

Vour ftrength unite, againit the might of Jove, 

Let down our golden everlafting chain, 

Whole iirong embrace holds HeavTi, and earth, and main*; 

Strive all of mortal and immortal birth, 

To drag by this the/tbund'rer down to earth: 

Ye ftrive in vain. If 1 but ft retch this hand, 

i heave the gods, the ocean, and the land'; 

I fix the chain to great Olympus' height, - • 

And the vail world hangs trembling in my fight: 

For fuch I reign unbounded, and above ; 

And fuch are men, and gods/compar'd to Jove." 

Homer. • 

C II A P. XIII. 

SARPEDON to GLAUCUS. 

Why boaft we, Glaucus, our extended reign, 
Where Xanthus' ftreams enrich the Lycian plain? 
Our num'rous herds that range the fruitful field, 
And hills where vines their purpled harveft yield? 
Our foaming bowls with purer nectar crown'd, 
Our feafts enhane'd with mufic's fp rightly found } 
Why on thefe mores are we with joy furvey'd, 
Admir'd as heroes, and as gods obey 'd I 
Unlefs great acls fuperior merit prove, 
And vindicate the bounteous pow'rs above : 
That when witli wond'ring eyes our martial bands 
Behold our deeds tranfeending our commands, 
Such, they may cry, deferve the fov'reign ftate, 
Whom they that envy dare not imitate. 
Could all our care elude the gloomy grave* ' 

Which claims no lefs the fearful than the brave, 
For lull of fame I mould not vainly dare 
In fighting fields, nor urge thy foul to war : 
- But fmce, alas ! ignoble death muft come, 
Difeafe, and death's inexorable doom, 

The 



158 ORATIONS and 'HARANGUES. Book IV. 

The life which others pay, 4et us beftow, 

And give to Fame what we to Nature owe ; 

Brave though we fall, and honour' d if we live, 

Or let us glory gain, or glory give ! .Home it. 

C H A P. XIV. 
MALEFORT'S DEFENCE OF HIMSELF. 
Live I once more 



To fee thefe hands and arms free, thefe, that' often, 

In the molt dreadful horror of a fight, 

Have been as lea-marks to teach fuch as were 

Seconds in my attempts, to. fleer between 

The roeks of too much daring and pale fear, 

To reach the port of victory ! When my fvvord, 

Advanc'd thus, to my enemies appear'd . 

A hairy comet, threat'ning death and ruin 

To fuch as durft behold it. Thefe the legs, 

That when our fhips were grappFd carried me 

With fuch fwift motion from deck to deck, 

As they that faw it, with amazement cried, 

He does not run, but flies, 

Now eramp'd with irons, 

Hunger and cold, they hardly do fupport me. 

But! forget myfelf. — O my good lords, 

That fit there as judges to determine 

The life and death of Malefort, where are now 

Thofe mouts, thofe cheerful looks, thofe loud applaufes 

With which, when I returned loaden with f^oil, 

You entertain'd your admiral ? All's forgotten, 

And I ftand here to give an account for that 

Of which I am as free and innocent 

As he that never faw the eye of him 

For whom I ftand fufpecled. , 

The main ground, on which 
You raife the building of your accufation, 
Hath reference to my fon ; mould I now curfe him, 
** Or 



Chap. XIV. ORATIONS and HARANGUES. 159 

Or wifh, in th' agony of my troubled foul, 

Lightning bad found him in his mother's womb, 

You'll fay, 'tis from the purpofe ; and I therefore 

Betake him to the devil, and To leave him. 

Did never loyal father but myfelf 

'Beget a treacherous ifrue ? Muft it follow, 

Becaufe that he is impious, I am falfe ? 

I would not boaft my actions, yet 'tis lawful 

To upbraid my benefits to unthankful men. 

Who funk the Turkifh galleys in the Straits, 

But Malefort ?- Who -refcu'd the French merchants, 

When they were boarded, and ftow'd under hatches 

By the pirates of Algiers, when every minute 

The}' did expect to be chain'd to the oar, 

But your now doubted -Admiral ? Then you fill'd 

The air with (bouts of joy, and did proclaim, 

When Hope had left them, and grim-Iook'd Defpair 

Hover'd with fail -ft retched wings over their heads, 

To me, as to the Neptune of the fea, 

They ow'd the reftitution of their goods, 

Their lives, their liberties. O, can it then 

Be probable, my lords, that he, that never 

Became the mailer- of a pirate's (hip, 

But at the mainyard hung The captain, up, 

And caufed the reft to be thrown overboard, - 

Should, after all thefe, proofs of deadly hate, 

So often expreffed- againft 'em, entertain 

A thought of -quarter with 'em, but much lefs 

(To the perpetual ruin of my glories) 

To join with them to lift a wicked arm 

Againit my mother country, this' Mari'eilles, 

Which withjuy prodigal expenfe of blood 

I have fo oft protected. 

What have I 

Omitted in the power of Mem and blood, 
Even in the birth to ftrangle the defigns 
Of this hell-bred wolf, my fon ? Alas ! my lords, 

I ana 



160 ORATIONS and HARANGUES, Book IV. 

I am no god, nor like one could forefee 
His cruel thoughts, and curfed purpofes ; 
Nor would the fun at my command forbear 
To make his progrefs te the other world, 
Affording to us one continued light. 
Nor could my breath difperfe thefe foggy mill*, 
Cover'd with which, and darknefs of tlie night, 
Their navy, undifcern'd, without refinance 
Befet our harbour. Make not that my fault, 
Which youj-in juffice, muft afcribe to fortune., 
But i£ that, nor my former aers, nor what 
I have deliver'd, can prevail with you 
To make good my integrity and truth ; 
Rip up this boibm, and pluck out the heart 

That hath been ever loyal. 

-Thou Searcher of men's hearts,. 

And fure Defender of the innocent ! 

(My other crying fias awhile not look'd on) 

If in this I am guilty, flrike me dead; 

Or, by fome unexpected means, confirm,. 

I am accus'd unjuitly. Massinger. 

CKAP. XV, 
HENRY V to ins SOLDIERS, 

AT THE SIEGE OF H-ARFLEUR. 

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more* 

Or clofe the wall up with our Engliih dead. 

In peace there's nothing fo becomes a man 

As modeft ftillnefs and humility : 

But" when the blaft of war blows in our ears, 

Then imitate the action of the tyger ; ** 

Stiffen the fmews, fummon up the blood, 

Difguife fair nature with hard-favour'd rage, 

Then lend the eye a terrible afpect. ; 

Let it pry through the portage of the head 

Like the brafs cannon, let the brow o'erwhelm it 



A* 



Chap. XVI. ORATIONS Hri> HARANGUES. l6l 

As fearfully as doth a galled rock ' 

Overhang and jutty bis confounded bafe, 

Swill'd with the wild and waftefui ocean. 

Now fet the teeth, and itretch the noftrii wide, 

Hold hard the breath, and bend up every fpirit 

To his full height. Now on, you nobieft £ngli(h r - 

Whoie blood is feteli'd from fathers of. warproof ; 

Fathers, that, -"like fo many Alexanders, 

Have in thefe parts, from morn till even, fought, 

And iheath'd their (words for lack of argument; 

Diihonour not your mothers ; now atteft, 

That thofe whom you call fathers did beget you. 

Be copy now to men of groffer blood, 

And teactTTrjem how to war: and you, good yeomen, 

Whole limbs were made in England, mow us here 

The mettle of your pailure; let us iw'ear 

That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not* 

For there is none of you fo mean and bafe, 

That hath not noble lull re in your eye. 

I fee you ftand like greyhounds in' the flips, 

Straining upon the itart. The game's a-foot: 

Follow your fpirit ; and upon this charge, 

Cry, God for Harry, England, and St. George. 

Shakespeare. 

C II A P. XVI. 

PROLOGUE TO CATO. 

To wake the foul by tender tfrokes of art, 
To raife the genius, and to mend the heart, 
To make mankind in confeious virtue bold, 
Live o'er each icerje, and be what they behold ; 
For this the tragic mufe firft trod the Itage, 
Commanding tears to ftream through every agejf 
Tyrants no more their lavage nature kept,. 
And foes to virtue wonder'd }*ow they wept, 
Our author (buns by vulgar fpnu*s to move 
The hero's glory, or the virgin's love; 

In 



162 ORATIONS anb HARANGUES. Book IV. 

In pitying love, we but our weaknefe fhow, 

And wild ambition well deferves its wo, 

Here tears /hall flow from a more generous caufe, 

Such tears as patriots fried for dying laws : 

He bids your breafts with ancient ardour rife, 

And calls .forth Roman drops from Britifh eyes. 

Virtue confefs'd in human lliape he draws, 

What Plato thought, and godlike Cato was : 

* No common object, to your light difplays,. 
But what ivitft pleafare Heav'n itfelf furveys ; 
A brave man it niggling in the ftorms of fate, 
And greatly falling in a falling flate ! 
While Cato gives his little fenate laws, 
What bofom beats not in his country's caufe? 
Who fees him aft, but envies every deed ? 
Who hears him groan and does not wifh to bleed ? 
Ev n when proud Csefar, 'midft triumphal cars, 
The fpoils of nations, and the pomp of wars, 
Ignobly vain, and impotently great, 
Show'd Rome her Cato's figure drawn in ftate ; 
As her dead father's rev'rend image pafs'd, 
The pomp was darkened, and the day o'ercaft, 
The triumph ceas'd — tears gufh'd from ev'ry eye, 
The world's great victor pafs'd unheeded by ; 

- Her laft good man 'dejected Rome ador'd, 
And honour'd Csefar% lefs than Cato's fword. 

Britons, attend : Be worth like this approv'd, 
And fhow you have the virtue to be mov'd. Pope. 

CHAP. XVII. 
CATO'S SENATE. 

Cato. Fathers, we one again are met in- council, 
Csefar's approach has fummcned us together, 
And Rome attends her fate from our refolves; 
How mall we treat this bold afpiring man ? 

Succefs 



Chap. XVII. ORATIONS and HARANGUES. 163 

Succefs ftiii follows him, an,d backs his crimes; 

Pharfaiia gave him Rome. Egypt has fmce 

Receiv'd his yoke, and the whole Nile is Casfars. 

Why mould I mention Jnba's overthrow, 

And Scipio's death ? Namiclia's burning lands 

Still linoke \vi*h blood. 'Tis time we mould decree 

What courie to take. Our foe advances on us, 

And envies us ev'n Libya's fultry deferts. 

Fathers, pronounce your thoughts; are they ftill fiVd, 

To hold it out and fight it to the kit ? 

Or are your hearts fubdu'd at length, and wrought 

By time and ill fuecefs to a fubmiinon ? 

Sempronius, fpeak. 

Se^ipronius. My voice is ftill for war. 
Gods ! can a Roman fenate long debate 
Which of the two to choofe, flav'ry or death ? 
No ; let us rife at once, gird on our fwords, 
And at the head of our remaining troops, 
Attack the foe, break through the thick array 
Of his throng'd legions, and charge h^me, upon him, 
Perhaps fome arm, more lucky than the reft, 
May reach his heart, and free the world from bondage. 
Rife, fathers, rife ! 'tis Rome demands your help : 
Rife, and revenge her flaughter'd citizens, 
Or fhare their fate ! The corpfe of half her fenate 
Manure the fields of Theffaly, while we 
Sit here deliberating in cold debates, 
If we lliould facrifice our lives to honour, 
Or wear them out in fervitude and chains." 
Roufe up, for fhame ! Our brothers of Pharfaiia 
1 Point at their wounds, and cry aloud — To battle I 
Great Pompey's fhade complains that we are flow, 
And Scipio's ghoft walks unreveng'd amongft ,us ! 

Cato. Let not a torrent of impetuous zeal 
Tranfport thee thus beyond the bounds of reafon: 
True fortitude is feen in great exploits 
That juftice warrants, and that wifdom guides: 

All 



J&4 ORATIONS and HARANGUES. Book IV, 

All elfe is tow'ring frenzy and diftracnon. 
Are not the lives of thofe who draw the {'word 
In Rome's defence entrusted to our care? 
Should we thus lead them to a field of (laughter, 
Might not th' impartial world with reafoH lay, 
We lavifn d at our deaths the blood of thoulunds, 
To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious ? 
Lucius, we next would know what's your opinion. 

Lucius. My thoughts, I muft confefs, are turn'd on 
Already have our quarrels fill'd the world [peact. 

With widows and with orphans: Scythia mourns 
Our guilty wars, and earth's remoteit regions 
Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome : 
'Tis time to iheath the fword, and fpaie mankind. 
It is not Ccefar, but the gods, my fathers, 
The gods declare againft us, and repel 
Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle, 
(Prompted by blind revenge, and wild defpair) 
"Were to refufe th' awards of Providence. 
And not to reft in Heaven's determination-. 
Alread}' have we mown our love to Rome^ 
Now let us mow fubmiffion to the gods. 
We took up arms, not to revenge ourfelves, 
But free the commonwealth : when this end fails, 
Arms have no further uie : our country's caufe, 
That drew our fwords, now wrelts them from our hands, 
And bids us not delight in Roman bluod, 
Unprontabiy ihed ; what men could do, 
Is done already : Heav'n and earth will witnefs, 
If Rome muft fall, that we are innocent. 

Semp. Thisimooth difcourfe, and mild behaviour, oft 

Conceal a traitor fomething whifpers me 

AH is not right — —Cato., beware of Lucius. 

Cato. Let us appear nor rafh nor diflident; 
Immod'rate valour i wells into a fault: 
And fear, admitted into public councils, 
Betrays like treafon. Let us fiiun them both. 

Father*, 



€«ap. XVII. ORATIONS and HARANGUES. 16*5 

-Fathers, 1 cannot fee that our affairs 

Are grown thus deip'rate : we have bulwarks round us; 

Within our walls are troops inur'd to toil 

-In Afrie's heats, and .Vafon'd to the fun; ' 

Numidia's fpacious kingdom lies behind us, 

Ready to rile at its young prince's call. 

While there is hope, do not diftru.ti the gods: 

But wait at leail till Carfares near approach 

Force us to yield. 'Twill never be too late 

To fue for chains, and own a conqueror. 

Whylhould Rome fall a mOmenteie her time? 

Ko, let us draw our term of freedom cut 

In its full length, -and fpin it to the I air. 

So fhall we gain full one day's liberty ; 

And let me perim, but, in Cato's Jhdgtiierit* 

A day, an hour of virtuous liberty, 

Is worth a whole eternity in bondage, 

Enter Marcus. 

Marc. Fathers, this moment, as I watch' d the g&i% 
Lodg'd on my poft, a herald is arriv'd 
From Caefar's camp, and with him corats old Declus 
The Roman knight : he carries in his looks 
Impatience, and demands to fpeak with Cato. 

Cato. By your permifrion, fathers, bid him enter, 
Decius was once my friend, but other profpects 
Have loos' d thofe ties, and bound him fait toCi£iai% ■ 
His meffage may determine our reicive-s. 

Enter Dec i us. 

Dec. Caefaj* fends health to Cato— — — 

Cato. Could he fend it 
To Cato's (laughter' d friends, it would be welcome, 
Are not your orders to addreis the fenate ? 

Dec My bufmefs is with Cato r Cazfar fees 
The itraits to which you're driv'n; and, as he knows 
Cato's high worth, is anxious for your life. 

Cato. 



166 ORATIONS and HARANGUES. Book IV. 

Cato. My life is grafted on the fate of Rome. 
Wou'd he fave Cato ? Bid him fpare his country. 
Tell your diclator this : and tell him, Cato 
Difdains a life, which he has power to offer. 

Dec. Rome and her fenators fubmit to Casfar ; 
Her gen'rals and her confute are no more, 
Who check'd his conquefts, and denied his triumphs. 
Why will not Cato be this Csefar's friend r 

Cato. Thofe veryreafons thou haft urg'd forbid it. 

Dec Cato, I've orders to expoflulate, 
And reafon with you, as from friend to friend ; 
Think on the ftorm that gathers o'er j^our head, 
And threatens ev'ry hour to burft upon it; 
Still may you Hand high in your country's honours. 
Do but comply, and make your peace with Caefar ; 
Rome will rejoice, andcaft its eyes on Cato, 
As on the fecond of mankind. 

Cato. No more: 
I muft not think of life on fuch conditions. 

Dec Csefar is well acquainted with your virtues, 
And therefore fets this value on your life : 
Let him but know the price of Cato's friend/hip, 
And name your terms. 

£ato. Bid him difoand his legions, 
Reftore the commonwealth to liberty, 
Submit his actions to the public cenfure, 
And Hand the judgment of a Roman fenate. 
Bid him do this, and Cato is his friend. 

Dec Cato, the world talks loudly of your wifdom — 

Cato. Nay, more, tho' Cato's voice was ne'er employ'd 
To clear the guilty, and to varniih crimes, 
Myfelf will mount the Roflrum in his favour, 
And ftrive to gain his pardon from the people. 

Dec A fiyle like this becomes a conqueror. 

Cato. Decius, a ftyle like this becomes a Roman. 

Dec. What is a Roman, that is Cgefar's foe ? 

€ato. Greater than Csefar : he's a friend to virtue. 

. ■ Dec. 



Chap. XVII. ORATIONS and HARANGUES-. 16? 

Dec. Confider, Cato, you 're in Utica, 
Ani at the head of your own little fenate; 
You don't now thunder in the Capitol, 
"With all the mouths of Rome to fecond you. 

Cato. Let him confider that, who drives us hither. 
'Tis Crefar's fword has made Rome's fenate little, 
And thiun d its ranks. Alas ! thy dazzled eye 
Beholds this man in a falfe glaring light, 
Which conquefc and fuccefs have thrown upon him ; 
Did'ft thou but view him right, thou'dfl fee him blac£ 
With murder, treafon, facrilege, and crimes, 
That itrike my foul with horror but to name 'era. 
I know thou look'it on me, as on a wretch 
Befet with ills, ai:d rover'd with misfortunes; 
But, by the gods I fwear, millions of worlds 
Shou'd never buy me to be like that Caefar. 

Dec Does Cato fend this anfwer back to Caefar, 
For all his gen'rous cares, and proffer'd friendihip? 
Cato. His cares for me are infolent and vain : 
Prefumptuous man ! the gods take care of Cato. 
Wou'd Ca?far mow the greatnefs. of his foul, 
Bid him employ his care for thefe my friends, 
And make good ufe of his ill-gotten power, 
By melt'ring men much better than himfelf, 

Dec Your high unconquerM heart makes you forget 
You are a man. You rum on your deitruclion. 
But I have done. When I relate hereafter 
The tale of this unhappy embafiy, 
All Rome will be in tears, 

Addison. 



BOOK V. 
DIALOGUES. 

CHA P. I. 
MYRTLE axd EEVIL. 

Bev. Well; Mr. Myrtle, your commands with me? 

Myr. The time, the place, our long acquaintance, 
and many ether cicrumftancea which affect me on this 
oceafion, oblige me, without farther ceremony, or con- 
ference, to Glefire you would not only, as you already 
have, acknowledge the receipt of my letter, but alfo 
comply with the requeft in it. I muft have farther no- 
tice taken of my meffage than thefe half lines. — I have 
yours — I fhall be at home-- 

Be v. Sir, I own I have -received a letter from you, 
in a very unufual ftyle; but as I defign every thing in 
this matter (hall be your own aclion, your own feeking, 
I fhall understand nothing but what you are pleaied to 
confirm face to face, and I have already forgot the con- 
tents of your epifrle. 

Myr. This cool manner is very agreeable to the 
abwfe you have already made of my fimplicity and frank* 
nefs; and I fee your moderation tends to your own ad- 
vantage, and not mine; to your own fafety, not cocfi- 
deration of your friend. 

Bev. My own fafety, Mr. Myrtle! 

Myr. Your own fafety, Mr. B'evil. 

Bev. Look you, 31 r. Myrtle, "'"there's no difguifmg 
that I underftand what you would be at. _But, fir, you 
know I have often dared to difapprove of the decifiona 
a tyrant cuftom has introduced, to the breach of ail 
laws both divine and human* 

Myr. 



-CiiAv.-i. DIALOGUES, 169 

Myr. Mr, Bevil, Mr. Bevil, it would be a good flrit 
orinciple, in thofe who have fo tender a confcience that 
way, to have as much abhorrence of doing injuries, as-— 

Bev. As what ? 

Mtr. As fear of anfwering for 'em, 

Bev. As fear of anfwering. for 'em ! But that appr-e- 
henfion is juft or blamable according to the object of that 

fear. 1 have often told you, in confidence of heart, I 

abhorred the daring to offend the Author of life, and 
refiling into his pretence ;-— J fay, by the very fame acl, 
to commit a crime againft him, and immediately to urge 
on to his tribunal. 

Myr. Mr. Bevil, I mu-ft tell you, this coolnefs, this 
gravity, this mow of confcience, mall never cheat me of 
my miltrefs. You have, indeed, the beft excufe for life, 
the hopes of poiYelling Lucinda: but, confider, Sir, I 
have as much reafon to be weary of it, if I am to lofe 
her; and my firft attempt to recover her mail be to let 
her fee the d-auntlefs man who is to be her guardian and 
pro left or. 

Bev. Sir, mow me but the lea-ft glimpfe of argument, 
that I am authorized, by my own hand, to vindicate any 
lawlefs infult of this nature, and I will mow thee, to 
chaftife thee, hardly deferves the name of courage. Slight, 
mconfiderate man! There is, Mr. Myrtle, no fuch terrour 
in quick anger : and you (hall, you know not why, be 
cool, as 3-ou have, you know not why, been warm. 

Myr. Is the woman one loves fo little an occafion of 
anger? You, perhaps, who know not what it is to love 
who have your ready, your commodious, your foreign 
trinket, for your loofe hours ; and from your fortune 
your fpecious outward carriage, and other lucky circum- 
fiances, as eafy a way to the poffemon of a woman of 
honour: you know, nothing of what it is to be alarmed 
to be diftraded with anxiety and terrourof loilngmore than 
life. Your marriage, happy man ! goes on like common 
toiiriefsy and in the interim, you have your rambling cap- 
1 tive, 



! W> DIALOGUES. Book V. 

live, your Indian princefs, for yourfoft moments of dallt- 
■ ance, your convenient, your ready Indiana. ' 

Bev. You have touched me beyond the patience of a 
man ; and I'm excufable in the guard of innocence, or 
from the infirmity of human nature, which can bear no 
more, to accept you invitation, and obferve your letter. 
Sir, I'll attend you. 

"Enter Tom.. 

Tom. Did you call, Sir ? I thought you Bid. 1 heard 
you fpeak aloud. 

Bev. Yes, go call a coach. 

Tom. Sir— Mafter— Mr. Myrtfp— - Friends-— -Gentle- 
men What d'ye mean ? I am but a fervant, -or— - — 

Bev. Call a coach -- 

-Shall I, though provoked to the uttermOii, re- 
cover myfelf at the entrance of a third perfon, and that 
my fervant too, and notfhave refpect enough to aJ-l-Ihave 
ever been receiving from infancy, the 1 obligation to the 
beft of fathers, to an unhappy virgin too, whofe life de- 
pends on mine. — — 

1 have; thank Heaven, had time to recollect my- 



self, and (hall not, for fear of what fuch a ram man as 
you' think of me, keep longer unexplained the falfe ap- 
pearances, under which your infirmity of temper makes 
you fuffer.; when, perhaps, too much regard to a falfe 
point of honour makes me prolong that fuffering. 

Myr. I am fure, Mr. Bevi] cannot doubt, but I had 
rather have fatisfa&ion from his innocence,than his fvvord. 

Bev. Why then would you afk it firft that way ? 

Myr. Confider, you kept your temper yourfelf no 
longer than 'till I fpoke to the difadvantage of her you 
loved. 

Bev. True. But let me tell you, I have faved you 
from the moil exquifite diflrefs, even though you had fuc- 
ceeded in the difpute. I know you fo well, that I am fure 
to have found this letter about a man y*>u had killed, 

would 



Chap. I. DIALOGUES. 171 

would have been worfe than death to yourfelf— Read it— - 
When he is thoroughly mortified, and fhame has got the 
better of jealoufy> he will deferve to be affifted towards 
obtaining Lucinda. 

Myr. With what a fuperiority has he turned the in- 
jury on me as the aggrefibr ! I begin to fear I have been 
too far tranfported — " A treaty in our family?" Is not that 
faying too much ? I mall relapfe— — -But I find—" fome- 
thing like jealoufy"— With what face can I fee my bene- 
factor, my advocate, whom I have treated like a betrayer $ 
O Bevii! with what words mall I 

Bev. There needs none : to convince is much more 
than to conquer. 

Myr. But can you- — »— 

Bev. You have o'erpaid the inquietude you gave m«, 
in the change I fee in you towards me. Alas, what ma- 
chines are we ! thy face is altered to that of another man; 
to that of my companion, my friend, 

Myr. That I could be fuch a precipitate wretch ! 

Bev. Pray, no more. 

Myr. Let me reflect how many friends have died by 
the hands of friends, for want of temper; and you muft 
give me leave to fay again and again, how much I am 
beholden to that fuperior fpirit you havefubdued me with. 
— What had become of one of us, or perhaps both, had 
you been as weak as I was, and as incapable of reafon ? 

Bev. I congratulate us both on this efcape from our- 
felves, and hope the memory of it will make us dearer 
friends than ever. 

Myr. Dear Bevil, your friendly conduct has convinced 
me that there is nothing manly, but what is conducted by 
reafon, and agreeable to the practice of virtue and juftice ; 
and yet, how many have been facrificed to that idol, the 
unreafonable opinion of men ! Nay, they are fo ridiculous 
in it, that they often ule their fwords againft each other, 
with diffembled anger and real fear. Steele, 

I 2 



*T2 DIALOGUES. Book Y. 

C II A P. II. 

LIONEL AND SIR JOHN FLOWEUDALE. 

Sir John. Lionel, Lionel. 
Lion. AVho calls ? 
Sir John. Lionel. 

Lion. Heavens! Tis Sir Jolm Flowcrdale ; where 
fhall I hide myfelf ; how avoid him — O cruel love, to 
\vhat do you reduce me ? 
Sin John. -Who's there ? 
Lion. 'Tis I, Sir; I am. here, Lionel. 
Sir John. My dear lad, I have been fearching fcr 
you this half hour, and was at laft told you had come into 
the garden : I have a piece of news, which I dare fwear 
will ihock and furprife you ; my daughter has refufed 
Colonel Oldboy's fon, who is this minute departed the 
houfe in violent refentment of her ill treatment. 
Lion. Is he gone, Sir? 

Sir John. Yes, and the family are preparing to fol- 
low him ; it is impoffible to defcribe to you, how I am 
grieved at this fatal accident; you know, as well as I, the 
cogent reafons, that determined me lo this marriage. O 
Lionel! Clariffa has deceived me: in this affair fhe has 
ftiffered me to deceive mylclf. The meafures which I 
have been fo long preparing are broken in a moment— 
my hopes fruft rated : and both parties, in the eye "of the 
world, rendered light and ridiculous. 

Lion. I am forry to fee you fo much moved; pray, 
Sir, recover yourfelf. 

Sir John. I am forry, Lionel, fhe has profited no 
better by your leffons of philofophy, than toimpofe upon 
and diftrefs fo kind a father ! 

Lion. Have jufter thoughts of her, Sir! She lias not 
smpofed on you, fhe is incapable — have but a little pa- 
tience, and things may yet be brought about. 

Sir 



Chap. II. DIALOGUES. 1/3 

Sir John. No, Lionel, no; the matter is pail, and 
there's an end of it; yet I would conjecture to what iuch 
an unexpected turn in her conduct can be owing ; I would 
fain be I'atisfied of the motive that could urge her to lb 
extraordinary a proceeding without the leaft intimation^ 
the leaft warning to me, or any of her friends. 

Li o x e L. Perhaps, Sir, the gent! e .nan may have been 
too impetuous, and offended Mifs Fiowerdale's delicacy 

—certainly nothing elfe could occafion- 

Sir John. Heaven only .knows 1 think, indeed, 

there can be no fettled averiioii, and furely her affections 
are not engaged elfewhere. 

Lion. Engaged, Sir,- No, Sir. 

Sir Joiixv I think not, Lionel. 
Lion. You may be pofitive, Sir — I'm Cure 
Sir John. O worthy young man, whole integrity, 
opennefs, and every good quality have rendered dear to 
me as my own child; I fee this affair troubles you as 
much as it does me. 

Lion. It troubles me indeed, Sir. 

Sir John. However, myjmrtieular difappointment 

. ©ught not to be detrimental to you, nor fhall it; I well 

know how irkfome it is to a generous mind to live in a 

itate of dependence, and have long had it in my thoughts 

to- make you eafy for life. 

Lion. Sir John, the fituation of my mind at prefent 

is a little difturb'd — fpare me ! 1 befeech you, fpare 

me; why will you perfiit in a goodnefs that mate me 
afham'd of rnyfelf £ 

Sir John. There is an eftate in this country which I 
purchafed fome years ago; by me it never will be miffed: 
and whoever marries my daughter will have little reafon 
to complain of my difpofmg of fuch a trifle for my own 
gratification. On the prefent marriage, I intended to per- 
fect a deed of gift in your favour, which has been for 
fome time prepared; my lawyer has this day completed 

I 3 it. 



174 DIALOGUES. Book V. 

it, and it is yours, my dear Lionel, with every good wifh 
that the warmeft friend can beftow. 

Lion. Sir, if you prefented a piitol with a defign to 
- moot me, I would fubmitto it; but you muftexcufe me, 
I cannot lay myfelf under more obligations. 

Sir John. Your delicacy carries you too far ; in this I 
confer a favour on myfelf: however we'll talk no more 
•n the fubjeft at prefent; let us walk towards the houfe. - 

Lionel and Clarissa 

chap. in. 

ALFRED and HERMIT. 

Alf. Thrice happy Hermit! 
Whom thus the heavenly habitants attend j 
Bleiling thy calm retreat ; while ruthlefs war • 
Fills the polluted land with blood and crimes. 
In this extremity of England's fate, 
Led by thy facred character, I come 
For comfort and advice. Say what remains, 
What yet remains to fave our prOftrate country ? 
Nor fcorn this anxious queftion even from me, 
A namelefs ftranger. 

Her. Alfred, England's king, 
All hail ! 

Alf. Amazement ! In this rufiet hid, 
I deem'd my ftate beyond difcovery's reach : 
How is it then to thee alone reveal'd ? [fountain 

Her. Laft night, when with a draught from that cool 
I had my wholefome fober fupper crown'd ; 
As is my ftated cuftom, forth I waik'd 
Beneath the folemn gloom and glitt'ring iky — 
To feed my foul with prayer and meditation. 
And thus to inward harmony compos' d, 
That fweeteft mufic of the grateful heart, 
Whofe each emotion is a filent hymn, 
I to my couch retir'd. Straight on mine eyes 

A pleafing 



Chap. III. DIALOGUES/ 175 

A pleafing. flumber. fell,, whofe, myftic power 

Seal'd upmy fenfes, but enlarg'd my fouL 

I^ed 'by -thole ipirits, who difclofe futurity, 

I. liv'd through diftant ages; felt the virtue, 

The great, the glorious pailions that will fire 

Remote- posterity ; . when guardian laws 

Are by the patriot, in the glowing fenate, 

Won. from corruption ••; when th' impatient arm • 

Of Liberty, invincible, ihall fcourge 

The tyrants of mankind — and when the deep 

Through all her fwelling waves, from pole to pole 

Shall fpread the boundlefs empire of thy fons. 

I law thee, Alfred, too — but o'er thy fortunes , 

Lay clouds impenetrable. 

Alf. To Heaven's will, 
In either fortune, mine (hall ever bend ; 
With humbleft refignation— Yet, O fay,-, 
Does that unerring Providence, whofe juflice 
Has bow'd me tathe duft ; whofe miniiiers, 
Sword, fire, and famine, fcourge this finful land, 
This tomb of its inhabitants — does He 
Referve me in his hand, the glorious inftrument 
From fell oppreffion to redeem my country ? 

Her. What mortal eye, by this immediate beam 
Not yet enlighten'd, dare prefume, to look 
Through time's abyfs ? But mould the flatterer Hope, 
Anticipating fee that happy time, 
Thofe whiter moments — Prince, remember, then, 
The noble lefibns by affliction taught : 
Preferve the quick humanity it gives, - 
The pitying focial fenfe of human weaknefs; 
Yet keep thy generous fortitude entire, 
The manly heart, that to another's woe 
Is tender, as fuperior to its own. 
Learn to fubmit: yet learn to conquer fortune. 
Attach thee (irmly to the virtuous deeds 
And offices of life ; to life icfelf, 

I 4 With 



176 DIALOGUE Book V. 

With all its vain and traniient joys, fit loofe, 

Chief, let devotion to the Sov'reign Mind, 

A fteady, cheerful, abfolute depended 

On his bell, wifeft government, porTeis thee. 

Alf. I thank thee, father : and O wiinefs. Heaven, 

Whofe eye the heart's profoundeit depth explores ! 

That if not to perform my regal ta& ; 

To be the common father of my people,. 

Patron of honour, virtue, and religion ; 

If not to fhelter ufeful worth, to guard 

His well-earn' d portion from the fons of rapine, 

And deal otat juftice with impartial hand ; 

If not to fpread, on all good men, thy bounty, 

The treafures trufted to me, not my own ; 

If not to raife anew our Englifh name, 

By peaceful arts that grace the land they blefs=, 

And generous war to humble proud opprefibrs r 

Yet more; if not to build the public weal, 
On that firm bafe which can alone refift 
Both time and chance, on liberty and laws : 
If not for thefe important ends ordain'd, 
May I ne'er poorly fill the throne of England ! 

Her. Still may thy breait thefe fentinients retain,, 
In profperous life ! 

Alf. Could it deftroy or change" 
Such thoughts as thefe, profperity were ruin. 
When thole whom Heaven dktinguiflies o'er millions, 
And' mowers profuiely power and fplendour on them, 
Whate'er th' expanded heart can wifli ;. when they,. 
Accepting the reward, neglect the duty, 
Or worfe. pervert thofe gifts to deeds of ruin,. 
Is there a wretch they rule fo bale as they ? 
Guilty at once of facrilege to Heaven.!. 
And of perfidious robbery to mail ! 

Her. Such thoughts become a monarch — bat behold, 
The glimmering dafk, involving air and fky, 
Creeps flow and folenmon.. Devotion now, 

With 






CiiAP.iV. DIALOGUES. *77 

With eye enraptur'd, as tlie kindling ftars 
Light, one by one, all Heaven into a glow 
Of living fire, adores the Hand divine, 
Who form'd their orbs, and pourd forth glory on them. 
Alt. Then, this good moment, fhatch'd from earth's 
In yonder cell let us aright employ : [uifairs., 

There, low on earth, as kneeling rev'rence bids, 
To Him our homage pay, with heart fincere, 
Who bids affliction hope, and triumph fear: 
"Who, from the depth of rain, yet may raife 
This proftrate ifle, and blefs with better days. 

Mallet. 

CHAP. IV. 

GUSTAVUS VASA, ANDERSON, 
A'llN OLD-US, and ARVIDA, 

SCENE, A MINE. 

And. You tell me wonders. 

Arn; Soft; behold, my lord, 
Behold him ftretch'd, where reigns eternal night, 
The flint his pillow, and cold damps his cov'ring; 
Yet, bold of fpirit, and robuft of limb, 
He throws inclemency afide, nor -feels. • '• . 

The lot of human frailty. 

And. What horrors hang around ! the favage race 
Ne'er hold their den but where fome glimm'ring-fay 
May bring the cheer of morn— What then is he ? 
His dwelling marks a fecret in his foul, 
And whifpers fomewhat more thaniman about him. 

Arn . {Draw but the veil of his apparent wretchednefs, 
And you mall find [his form is but affum'd, 
To hoard fome wond'rous treafure lodg'd within. 

An d. Let him bear up to what thy praifes fpeak him,. 
And I will win him, fpite of his referve, 
Bind him with facred friend fhip to my foul, 
And make him half my felf. 

*■ & Arn. 



17» DIALOGUES. BookV. 

Arn. 'Tis nobly pro mis'd; , 
For worth is rare, and wants a friend in Sweden : 
And yet I tell thee, in her age of heroes, 
When, nurs'd by freedom, all her ions grew great, 
And evVy peafant was a prince in virtue, 
I greatly err, or this abandon'd ftranger 
Had Hepped the fir it for fame, though now he feeks^ 
To veil his name, and cloud his fhine of virtues ; 
For there is danger in them. 

And. True, A mold us. 
Were there a prince throughout the fceptred globe. 
Who fearch'd out merit for its due preferment, 
With half that care our tyrant feeks it out 
For ruin, happy, happy were that ftate, 
Beyond the golden fable of thofe pure 

And earlieft ages Wherefore this, good Pleaven ? 

Is it of fate, that who affumes a crown 
Throws oif humanity ? 

Arn. So Criftiern holds. 
He claims our country as by right of conqueft, 
A right to every wrong. Ev'n now 'tis faid, 
The tyrant envies what our mountains yield 
Of health or aliment; he comes upon us, 
Attended by a numerous hofr, to feize 
Thefe laft retreats of our expiring liberty* 

And. Say'ft thou ? 

Arn. This rifing day, this inftant hour, 
Thus chafed, we ftand upon the utmoft brink 
Of ileep perdition, and mufl leave the precipice, 
Or turn upon our hunters. 

And. Now, Guftavus 1 
Thou prop and glory of inglorious Sweden, 
Where art thou,.mightieft man— Were he but here— 
I'll tell thee, my Arnoldus, I beheld him, 
Then when he firft drew fword, ferene and dreadful, 
As the browed evening ere the thunder break ; 
For foon he made it toiliorae to our eyes 

T To 



Chap. IV. DIALOGUES. 1/9 

To mark his fpeed, and trace the paths of conqueft ! 

In vain we follow'd where he fwept the field ; 

Twas death alone could wait upon Guftavus. [him. 

Arn. He was indeed whate'er our wi(h could form 

And. Array' d and beauteous in the blood of Janes, 
Th' invaders of his country, thrice he chafed 
This Criftiern, this fell conqu'ror, this ufurper ; 
With rout and foul difhonour at his heels, 
To plunge his head in Denmark. 

Arn. Nor ever had the tyrant known return,. 
To tread our necks, and blend us with the dull,. 
Had he not dar'd to break through every law 
That fancunes the nations ; feiz'd our hero, 
The pledge of fpecious treaty, tore him from us,. 
And led him chain d to Denmark. 

And. Then we fell. 
If he ftill lives, we yet may learn to* rife; 
But never can I dare to relt a hope 
On any arm but his. 

Arn. And yet, I truft y 
This ftranger that delights to dwell with darknefs, 
Unknown, unfriended, corapafs'd round with wretchednefs, 
Conceals fome mighty purpofe in his breait, 
Now lab'ring into birth. 

And. When came he hither ? 

Arn. Six moons have chang'd upon the face of night, 
Since here he firft arriv'd r in fervile weeds, 
But yet of mien majeftic. I obferv'd him, 
And ever as I gazed, fome namelefs charm, 
A wond'rous greatnefe, not to be conceal'd, 
Broke thro' his form, and aw'd my foul before him. 
Amid thefe mines he earns the hireling's portion, 
His hands out-toil the hind, while on his brow 
Sits patience bath'd in the laborious drop 
Of painful induftry. I oft have fought, 
With friendly tender of fome worthier fervice, 
To win him from his temper; but he ihuns 

16 All 



180 , dialogues; Bombv: 

All offers, yet declin'd with graceful act, 
Engaging beyond utt'rance. And at eve, 
When all retire to fome domciii© folace, 
He only ft ays, and, as you fee, the earth 
Receives him to her dark and cheerlefs bofom. . 

And. Has no unwary moment e'er betray'd 
The labours of his foul, fome fav'rite grief, 
Whereon to raife conjecture ? 

Arn. I faw, as fome bold peafants late deplor'd 
Their country's bondage, fudden paflion feizVl 
And bore him from his feeming; itraight his form 
Was turn'd. to terrour, ruin fill'd his eye r 
And his proud ftep appear' d to awe the world : 
When check'd, as through an impotence of rage, 
Damp fadncfs foonufurp'd upon his brow, 
And the big tear roll'd graceful down his vifago. 

And. Your, words imply a man of much importance , 

Arn. So I fufpscted, and at dead of night 
Stole on his flurobers; his full heart was bufy, 
And oft his tongue pronounced the hated name 

Of — bloody Criftiern There he feem'd to paufe, 

And recollected to one voice, he cried, 

O Sweden ! O my country ! Yet I'll fave thee. 

An. d . Forbear : be riles 1 leavens, what M ajefty I 

Enter Gu status. 

Your pardon,, ftranger, if the .voice of virtue,. 

If cordial amity from man to man, 

And fomewhat that mould whii'perto the foul,, 

To feek and cheer the fuff'rer, led me hither, 

Impatient to falute thee. Be it thine' 

Alone to point the path of fr-iendfnip out, 

And my befi pow'r mall wait upon thy fortunes. 

Gus. Yes, gen'rous man; there is a wond'rous teny 
The trueft, worthiest, nobleft caufe for. friendship : 
Dearer than life, than int'reft, or alliance, 
And equal to your virtues. 

And* 



Chap. IV. DIALOGUES. Wl 

And. Say, unfold. 

Gus. Ait thou a foldier, a chief lord hi Sweden, 
And yet a ftranger to thy country's voice, 
That loudly calls the hidden patriot forth ? 
But what's a foldier ? what's a lord in Sweden? 
All worth is fled or fallen; nor has a life 
Been .fpar'd but for dimemour; fpar'd to breed 
More Haves, for Denmark, to beget a,: race. ' , j 
Of new-born virgins, for th' uni'ated lull 
Of our new matters. Sweden, thou art no more! | •". 
Queen of the north ! thy land of liberty, . 
Thy houfe of heroes, and thy ieat of virtues, 
Is now. the tomb where thy brave ions lie fpeechlefs... 
And foreign fnakes engender. 

And. ; Oh, 'tis true! 
But wherefore r To what purpofe ? \ 

Gus. Think of Stockholm ! , ■ , \ 

When Criftiern feiz'd upon the hour of peace, 
And dreiich'd the holpitabie floor with blood, 
Then fell the flow'r of Sweden, mighty names I 
Her hoary ienators, d.nd gafping patriots. . : 
The tyrant fpoke, and his licentious band ; 

Of blood-train'd minifters were loos'd to ruin, 
Invention wanton' d in the toil of .infants 
Stabb'd on the breair, or .reeking on the poinds 
Of fportive javelins. Hufbands, fens, and fires, 
With dying ears drank in the loud defpair 
Of mrieking chaftity. The waite of war | 
Was pea: e and friendmip to this civil mafTacre. 
O Iieav'n and earth ! k there a curfe for this I 
For fm without temptation, calm, cool villainy, 
Deliberate mifchief, unimpaiTion'd luft, 
And fmiling murder? Lie thou there, my foul ; 
Sleep, fleep upon it, image not the fcrm 
Of any dream but this, till time grows pregnant, 
And thou canft wake to. vengeance. [for$u 

And. Thou'ft greatly mov'd me. "Ha,! thy tears ftart 

Yes, 



ISfi DIALOGUES. Book V. 

Yes, let them flow, our country's fate demands them; 
I too will mingle mine, while yet 'tis left us 
To weep in fecret and to i'igh with fat'ety. 
But wherefore talk of vengeance ? 'Tie a word 
Should be engraven on the new-fall'n mow, 
Where the firit beam may melt it from obfervance, 
Vengeance on Criftiern ! Norway and the Dane, 
The fons of Sweden, all the peopled north, 
Bends at his nod — My humbler bwaft of pow'r 
Meant not to cope with crowns. 

Gus. Then what remains 
Is briefly this ; your friendship has my thanks, 

But rnuft not my acceptance. Never — no 

Firft fink, thou baleful manfion, to the centre, 
And be thy darknefs doubled round my head, 
Ere I forfake thee for the blifs of Paradife,. 
To be enjoy'd beneath a tyrant's fceptre : 
No, that were wilful flavery. Freedom is 
The t$§jghteft gift of Heaven, 'tis reafon's felf, 

The kin of Deity 1 will not part it. 

'And. Nor I, while I can hold it; but, alas! 
That is not in our choice. [force 

Gus. 'Why ? where's that pow'r whofe engines are of 
To bend the brave and virtuous man to flavery ? 
Bafe fear, the lazinefs of luft, grofs appetites, 
Thefe are the ladders and the groveling footftool, 
From whence the tyrant rifes on our wrongs, 
Secure and fee.ptred in the fours femlity, 
He has debauch'd the genius of cur country^ 
And rides triumphant, while her captive fons 
Await his nod, the mken Daves of pleafure, 
Or fetter'd in their fears. 

And. I apprehend you- 
No doubt, a bale fubmiffion to our wrongs 
May well be termed a voluntary bondage : 
But think the heavy hand of pow'r is on us ; 
Of pow'r, from whofe imprifonment and chains 

Not 



Chap. IV. DIALOGUES. 183 

Not all our freeborn virtue can protect us. 

Gus. Ti.s there you err ; for I have felt their foree ; 
And had I yielded to enlarge thefe limbs, 
Or ihare the tyrant's empire, on* the terms 
Which he propos'd, I were a flave indeed. 
No, in the deep and deadly damp of dungeons, 
The foul can rear her fceptre, fmile in anguiih, 
And triumph o'er oppreilion. 

And. O glorious fpirit ! Think not 1 am flack 
To relifli what thy noble fcope intends ; 
But then the means, the peril, and the confequence ? 
Great are the odds, and who mall dare the trial ? 

Gus. I dare. 
Oh, wert thou ftill that gallant chief, 
Whom once I knew ! I could unfold a purpofe, 
Would make the greatnefs of thy heart to fwell, 
And burft in the conception. 

And. Give it utt'rance. 
Perhaps there lie foine embers yet in Sweden, 
Which, waken'd by thy breath, might rife in flames, 
And fpread vindictive round. You fay you know me; 
But give a tongue to fuch a caufe as this, 
And if you hold me tardy in the call, 
You know me not. But thee I've furely known ; 
For there is fomewhat in that voice and form, 
Which has alarm' d my foul to recollection : 
But 'tis as in a dream, and mocks my reach. 

Gus. Then name the man whom it is death to know, 
Or, knowing, to conceal and I am he. 

And. Guftavus ! Heavens ! Tis he ! 'tis he himfelf. 

Enter Ar vid a, /peaking to a Servant. 

Arv. I thank you, friend ; he's here ; you may retire. 

And. Good morning to my noble gueft ; you're early. 

Arv. I come to take a fnort and hafty leave. 
? Tis faid, that from the mountain's neighb'ring brow 
Tiie cairvafs of a thoufand tents appears, 

Whitening 



184 DIALOGUES.' BookV. 

Whitening the vale— — Suppofe the tyrant there; 
You know my fafeiy lies not in the interview— — 
Ha ! what is he, who, ; in the fhreds of flavery, 
Supports a ftep fuperior to the Mate 
And infolenee of ermine ? 

Gus/ 'Sure that voice 
Was once the voice of friend/hip and Arvida ! 

An v. Ha ! Yes, 'tis he ! — Ye powers, it is Guftavus •■! 

Gus; Thou brother of adoption ! in the bond 
Of every virtue wedded to my foul, 
Enter my heart; it is thy property. 

Anv. I'm loft in joy, and vfcnd'rous circumflance; 

Gys. Yet, wherefore, my Arvida, wherefore is it, 
That ip a place, and at a time like this, 
We mould thus meet ? Can Criiriern ceafe from cruelty ? 
Say, whence is this, my brother ? How efeajVd you ? 
Did I not leave thee in the Danifli dungeon ? 

Arv. Of that hereafter. Let me view thee firft. 
How graceful is the garb of wretchednefs, 
When worn by virtue ! Fafhions turn to folly; 
Their colours tarnifh, and their pomps grew poor 
To her magnificence. ■ ' 

Gus. Yes, my Arvida; 
Beyond the fweeping of the proudefl train 
That fha-des a monarch's heel, I prize thefe weeds; 
For they are facred to my country's freedom. 
A mighty- enterprife has been conceiv'd, 
And thou art come auibicious to the birth, 
As lent to fix the feal of -Iieav'n upon it. 

Arn. Point but thy purpofe— let it be to bleed™ 

Gus. Your Hands, my friends. 

All.' Our hearts. 

Gus. I know they're brave. 
Of fuch the time has need, of hearts like yours, 
Faithful and firm ; of hands inur'd and ftrong ; 
For we mull ride' upon the neck of danger*: ! 
And plunge ijito apurpoie big with death. 

And, 



Chap. IV. DIALOGUES. 1S5 

A>:d. Here let us knee], and bind us to thy fide, 

By all ■ 

. G us. No, hold— if we want oaths to join us °, I 
Swift let us; part from pole to pole afunder. 
A caufe like ours is its own facrament; 
Truth, juihce, reafpn,- love, and liberty, 
Th' .eternal links that claip the world,: are in it ; 
And he who breaks their fanclion, breaks all law, 
And infinite connection. 

Arn. True, my lord, 

And. And fuch; the force I feel. 

Aitv. And I. 

Auisf. And all. ; 

Gus, Know then, that ere your royal Stenon fell, 
While this my valiant coufm and myfelf, 
By chains and treach'ry lay detain' d in Denmark, 
Upon a dark and unfufpe&ed hour, 
The bloody. Criftiern fought to take my head. . 
Thanks to the ruling Pow'r, within whofe eye 
Embofom'd ills, and mighty treafons rollj 
Prevented of their blacknefs- — —I efcap'd, 
Led by a gen'rous arm, and foine time lay 
Conceal'd in Denmark; for. my forfeit head 
Became the price of crowns. Each port and path 
Was fhut againit my. paffage : till I heard 
That Stenon, valiant Stenon., fell in battle, 
And freedom was no more. Oh, then what bounds- I 
Had pow'r to hem the defp'rate! I o'erpafs'd them, 
Travers'd all Sweden, through ten thoufand foes* 
Impending perils, and furrounding tongues, 
That from bimfelf inquir'd Guftavus out. 
Witnefs, my country, how Itoil'd to wake 
Thy fons to liberty — In vain ; for fear, 
Cold fear, had feized on all—- — Here laft I came, 
And fhut me from the fun, whofe hateful beams 
Serv'd but to fliow the ruins of my country. 
When here, my friends, 'twas here at length, I found 



180 DIALOGUES. Book V. 

What I had left to look for, gal lac t fpirits, 
In the rough form of untaught peafantry. 

An d. Indeed they once were brave; our Dalecarliaas 
Have oft beer* known to give a law to kings,; 
And as their only wealth has been their liberty, 
From all th' unmeafur'd graf pings of ambition 
Have held that gem untouch' d — tho' now 'tis fear'd 

Gus, It is not fear'd — I fay, they (till mail hold it. 
I'ye fearched thefe men, and find them like the foil, 
Barren without, and to the eye unlovely, 
But they've their mines within ; and this the day 
In which I mean to prove them. 

Arn. Oh, Guftavus I 
Moft, aptly haft thou caught the palling hour^ 
Upon whofe critical and feted hinge 
The ftate of Sweden turns. 

Gus. And to this hour 
I've therefore held me in this darkfome womb,. 
That fends me forth as to a. fecond birth 
Of freedom, or through death to reach eternity. 
This day, return'd with ev'ry circling year, 
In thoufands pours the mountain peafants forth, 
Each with his batter'd arms and rufty helm, 
In fportive discipline well train'd, and prompt 
Againft the day. of peril. Thus difguis'd, 
Already have I ftirr'd their latent fparks 
Of flumb'ring virtue, apt as I could wifli, 
To warm before the lighted breath of liberty. 

Arn. How will they kindle, when, confefs'd to viewy 
Once more their lov'd Guftavus ltands before them, 
And pours his blaze of virtues on their fouls! 

Arv. It Cannot fail. 

And. It has a glorious afpecl. 

Arv. Now, Sweden, rife and reaflert thy rights, 
Or be for ever fali'n! 

And. Then be it'fo. 

Arn. Lead on, thou man of war, 
To death or victory. 

Gus. 



Chap. IV. DIALOGUES. 187 

Gus. Let us embrace. 
Why, thus, my friends, thus join'd in fuch a caufe, 
Are not we equal to a hoft of (laves ? 
You fay the foe's at hand — -Why, let them come: 
Steep are our hills, nor eafy of accefs, 
And few the hours we a(k for their reception j 
For I will take thefe ruftic fons of liberty 
In the ii rib-warmth and hurry of their fouls ; 
And mould the tyrant then attempt our heights, 

He comes upon his fate A rife-, thou fun ! 

Ilafte, halle to roufe thee to the call of liberty, 
That (hall once more falute thy morning beam, 
And hail thee to thy fetting. 

Arn. O blefs'd voice I 
Prolong that note but one fhort day through Sweden? 
And though the fun and life mould fet together, 
It matters not — we fliall have liv'd that day. 

Arv. Were it not worth the hazard of a life 
To know if Criftiern leads his pow'rs in perfon, 
And what his fcope intends ? — Be mine that taik.j 
Ev'n to the tyrant's tent I'll win my way, 
And mingle with his councils. 

Gus. Go, my friend. 
Dear as thou art, whene'er our country calls, 
Friends, fons, -and fires, mould yield their treafure up, 
Nor own a fenfe beyond the public fafety. Brooke. 

CHAP. V. 
TAMERLANE and DERVISE. 

Tam. Thou bring'ft me thy credentials from the 
higheft, 
From Alha, and our Prophet. Speak thy menage; 
It muft import the beft and nobleit ends. 

De r.. Thus fpeaks our Holy Mahomet, who has giv'n 
To reign and conquer : 111 dolt thou repay [thee 

The bounties of his hand, unmindful of 

The 



188 DIALOGUES. BookV. 

The fountain whence thy ft reams of greatnefs flow. 

Thou haft forgot high Ileav'n, haft beaten down 

And trampled on religion's iauctity. 

Tam. Now, as 1 aai a foldier and a king 

(The greateft names of honour), do but make 

Thy imputation out, and Tamei lone 

Shall do thee ample juftice on himfelf. 

So much the facrecl name of Heaven awes ,me, 

Could I fufpect my foul of harbouring ought 

To its difhonour,! would fearch it ftricHy, 

And drive th' offending thought with fury forth. 

Der. Yes, thou hale hurt pur holy prophet's honour, 

By foftering the pernicious Chrifn.au iect, 

Thofe, whom his fword purfu'jd with fell deftruction, 

Thou tak'ft into thy bofom, to thy councils; 

They are thy only friends. The true believers 

Mourn to behold thee favour this Axalla. 

Tam. I fear me, thou outgo'it the prophet's order, 

And bring' ft his venerable name to flicker 

A rudenel's ill-becoming thee to ufe, 

Or me to fuffer. When thou nam'ft my friend, 

Thou nam'it a man beyond a monk's difcerning, 

Virtuous and great, a warrior and a prince. 

Der. He is a Chriftian; there our law condemns him, 
Although he were ev'n all thou fpeak'ft, and more. 

Tam. 'Tis falfe; no law divine condemns the virtuous* 
For differing from the rules your fchools devife. 
Look round, how Providence beftows alike 
Sunfliine and rain, to blefs the fruitful year, 
On different nations, all of different faiths ; 
And (though by ieveral names and titles worfhipp'd) 
Heav'n takes the various tribute of their praife : 
Since all agree to own, at leaft to mean, 
One beft, one greateft, only Lord of all. 
r Thus, when he view'd the many forms of nature, 
.He found that all was good, and biefs'd the fair variety. 

DEft. 



Chap. V. DIALOGUES. 18$ 

Dee. Moil impious and profane ! — Nay, frown not, 
Full of the prophet, T defpife the danger [prinee 1 

Thy angry power may threaten. I command thee 
To hear, and to obey ; fmce thus fays Mahomet : 
Why have I made thee dreadful to the nations ? 
Why have I given thee conqneft ; but t6 fpread 
My facred law ev'n to the utmolt earth, 
And make my holy Mecca the world's wor/hip ? 
Go on, and wherefoe'er thy arms (hall profper, 
Plant there the prophet's name ; with fword and lire 
Drive out all other faiths, and let the world 
Confeis'him only. 

Tam. Had he but commanded 
My fword to conquer all, to make the world 
Know but one Lord, the tafk were not fo hard j 
'Twere but to do what has been done already ; 
And Philip's fon, and Caefar, did as much : 
But to fubdue th' unconquerable mind, 
To make one reafon have the fame effect; 
Upon all apprehenfions: to force this 
Or this man, juft to think as thou and I do; 
Impoflible! Unlefs fouls were alike 
In all, which differ now like human faces. 

Der, W»ll might the holy caufe be carried on^ 
If MuiTulmen did not make war on Muflulmen. 
Why hold'it thou captive a believing monarch ? 
Now, as thou hop'il to Tcape the prophet's curfe, 
Releafe the royal Bajazet, and ! join, 
With force united, to deftroy the Christians. 

Tam. ; Tis well— I've found the caufe that movd thy 
What fhallow politician fet thee on, [zeal, 

In hopes to fright me this way to compltance ? 
Der. Our prophet- only — - — 
•Tam. No— -thou doft belie him, 
Thou maker of new faiths ! that dar ft to build 
Thy fond inventions on religion's name. 
Religion's luftre is, by native innocence, 

Divinely 



19* D I A L OGUE S. Book V. 

Divinely pure, and fimple from all arts ; 

You daub and drefs her like a common miftrefs, 

The harlot of your fancies; and by adding 

Falfe beauties, which fhe wants not, make the world 

Sufpecl her angel's face is foul beneath, 

And wo' hot bear all lights. Hence J I have found thee, 

Der. I have but one refort. Now aid me, prophet. 
Yet I have fomewhat further to unfold ; 
Our prophet fpeaks to thee in thunder- — thus— 

Tam.. No, villain ; Heav'n is watchful o'er its worihip- 
pers, 
Andblafts the murderer's purpofe. Think, thou wretch! 
Think on the pains that wait thy crime, and tremble 
When I mall doom thee 

Der. 'Tis but death at laft ; 
And I will fuffer greatly for the caufe 
That urg'd me firft to the bold deed* 

Tam. Oh, impious ! 
Enthufiafrn thus makes villains martyrs. 
It mail be fo — To die! 'twere a reward.— 
Now learn the. difference 'twixt thy faith and mine;: 
Thine bids thee lift thy dagger to my throat; 
Mine can forgive the wrong, and bid thee live. 
Keep thy own wicked fecret, and be fafe ! 
If thou repent'ft, I have gain' d one to virtue, 
And am,. in that, rewarded for my mercy; 
If thou continu'ft ftill to be the fame, 
'Tis punifhment enough to be a villain. 
Hence ! from my fight— it mocks my foul to think - 
That there is fuch a monfter in my. kind. 
Whither will man's impiety extend ? 
Oh, gracious Heav'n! dofl thou withhold thy thunder, 
When bold affamns take thy name upon 'em, 
And fwear they are the champions of thy caufe ? 

ROW Fa 






Chap. VI. <D I A I/O GUES. igi 

CHAP. VI. 
COMUS and LADY. 

Lady. This way the noife was, if mine ear be true, 
"TMy belt guide now ; methought it was the found 
Of riot and ill-manag'd merriment, 
Such as the jocund flute or gamefome pipe 
Stirs up among the loofe unlettered hinds, 
When for their teeming flocks, and granges full, 
In wanton dance they p'raife the bounteous Pan, 
And thank the gods amifs. I fliould be loth 
To meet the rudenefs and fwill'd infolence 
Of fuch late rioters ; yet, oh, where elfe 
Shall I inform my Unacquainted feet 
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood ? 

Comus. I'll eafe her of that care, and be her guide. 

Lady. My brothers, when they law me wearied out 
With this long way, refolving here to lodge 
L'nder the fp reading favour of thefe pines, 
Stepp'd, as they faid, to the next thicket-fide. 
To bring me berries, or fuch cooling fruit, 
As the kind hofpitable woods provide. 
They left me then, when the gray-hooded Even, 
Like a fad votarift in palmer's weed, 
Rofe from the hindmoft wheels of Phoebus' wain : 
But where they are, and why they come not back, 
Is now the labour of my thoughts : 'tis likelieft, 
They had engag'd their wand'ring fteps too-far : 
This is the»place, as well as I may guefs, 
Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth 
Was rife, and perfect in my liftening ear : 
Yet nought but Angle darknefs do I find. 
What might this be ? A thoufand fanta-fies 
Begin to throng into my memory, 
Of calling fhapes, and beck'ning fhadows dire, 
And airy tongues, that fyllable men's names 

. On 






192 DIALOGUES. Book \ 

On fands, and fliores, and dcfert wildcrnefies. 
Thefe thoughts mayflartle well, but not aftound 
The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended 
By a flrcmg-fiding champion, Conference. 
Oh, welcome, pure-eyed faith, white-handed hope. 
Thou hovering angel, girt with golden wings, 
Aud thou unbleminYd form of chaftity ; 
I fee you vifrblj, and now believe 
That he, the Supreme Good (V whonl all things ill 
Are buj, as flavifh officers of vengeance) 'J 
Would fend a glift'ring guardian, if need were 
To keep my life and honour unaffaii'd. 
Was I deceiv'd, or did a fable cloud 
Turn forth her filver lining on the night ? 
I did not err, there does a fable cloud 
Turn forth her filver lining on the night, 
. And caiis a gleam over ;this tufted grove. . 
I cannot halloo to my brothers, but 
Such noife as I can make to be heard fartheft 
I'll venture ; for my new-enliven'd fpirits [off. 

Prompt me (Ladyfmgs); and perhaps they are not U 
Comus. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould 
Breathe fuch divine enchanting ravimment ? 
Sure fomething holy lodges in thatbreaft, 
And with thefe raptures moves the vocal air 
To teftify his hidden refidence : 
How fweetly did they float upon the wings 
Of lilence, through the empty-vaulted night, 
At ev'ry fall fmoothing the raven down 
Of darknefs, till it fmil'd ! 1 have oft heard 
My mother Circe, with the Sirens three, 
Amidlt the flow'ry-kirtled Naiades, 
Culling their, potent herbs and baleful drugs ; 
Who, as they fung, would take the poifon'd foul, 
And lap it in Elyfium: Scylla wept, 
And chid her barking waves into attention, 
And fell .Charybdis murmur'd foft applaufe : 

Yet 



r 



Chap.YL DIALOGUES. 

Yet they in pleafmg fl umber lull'd the fenfe, 
A iid in fweet madnefs robb'd it of itfelf. 
But fiich a facred and home-felt delight, 
Sack fober certainty of waking biifs 
I never heard till now- — -I'll fpeuk to hefi; 

And Hie ihall be my queen. Hail, foreign wotider> 

Whom certain. thefe rough (hades did never breed, 

Uhlefs the goddei's that in rural (brine 

Dwell' ft here with Pan, or Silvan, by blefs'd foag 

Forbidding cv'ry bleak unkindly fog 

To touch the profp'rous growth of this tall wood. 

Lady. Nay, gentle fhepherd, ill is loft that ptaife, 
That is addrefs'd to unattending ears : 
Not any boaft of fkill, but extreme ihift 
How to regain my fever'd company, 
Compel!' d me to awake the courteous Echo, 
To give me anfjyer from her moiTy couch. 

Co m u a . What chance, good lady, hath bereft youth us ? 

Lady. Dim darknefs, and this leafy labyrinth. 

Comus. Could that divide you from near-uuYrinnr 

Lady. They left me weary on a grainy turf, [guides ? 

Com us. By falfehood, or difcourtefy, or why? 

La-dy. To feek l'th' valley fome cool friendly fpririg. 

Com us. And left your fair fide all unguarded, lady r 

Lady. They were but tsvain, and purpos'd quick return, 

Comus. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them? 

Lady. How eafy my misfortune is to hit! 

Comus. Imports their lofe befide the prefent need? 

Lady. No lefs than if I mould my brothers lofe. 

Comus. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom? 

Lady. As fmooth as Hebe's -their unrazor'd lips. 

Comus. Two fuch I faw, what time the labour' cl ox 
In his loofe traces from the furrow came, 
And the fwink'd hedger at his f upper fat : 
I faw them under a green mantling vine, 
That crawls along the fide of yon fmall hill, 
Plucking ripe clutters from the tender moots ; 

K Tf ■•*.■ 



i$* DIALOGUES. BookV. 

Their port was more than human : as they flood, 

I took it for a fairy vifion 

Of fome gay creatures of the element, 

That in the colours of the rainbow live, 

And play i'th' plaited clouds. I was awe-ftruck, 

And as I pals' d I worfhipp'd ; if thofe you feek, 

It were a journey like the path to Hcav'n 

To help to find them. 

Lady. Gentle villager, - 
What readier! way would bring me to that place ? 

Comus. Due weft it rifes from this fhrubby point. 

Lady. To find out that, good fhepherd, I fuppofe, 
In fuch a fcant allowance of ftarlight, 
Would overtafk the befl land pilot's art, 
Without the fure guefs of well-praclis'd feet. 

Comus. I know each lane, and ev'ry alley green. 
Dingle, or bum,y dell of this wild wood, 
And ev'ry bofky bourn from fide to fide, 
My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood : 
And if your ftray attendants be yet lodg'd, 
Or ihroud within thefe limits, I mall know 
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roofted lark 
From her thatch' d pallet roufe : if otherwife, 
- 1 can conduct you, lady, to a low 
But loyal cottage, where you may be fafe 
Till farther queft. 

Lady. Shepherd, I take thy word, 
And truft thy honefl offer'd courtefy, 
Which oft is fooner found in lowly fheds, 
With fmoky rafters, than in tap'ftry halls 
And courts of princes, where it firft was nam'd, 
And yet is moft pretended. In a place, 
Lefs warranted than this, or lefs fecure, 
I cannot be, that I fhould fear to change it. 
Eye me, bleft Providence, and Iquare my trial 
To my proportion'd ftrength.— — — Shepherd, lead on. 

Milton. 



Chap. VII. DIALOGUES. J$S 

CHAP. VII. 
THE BROTHERS. 

Eldest Brother. Unm u ffie, ye faint ft ars • 
And thou, fair moon, 

That wont' It to love the traveller's benizon, 
Stoop thy pale vifage through an amber cloud. 
And diiinherit chaos, that reigns here 
In double night of darknefs.and oi fhades ! 
Or if your influence be quite damni'd up 
With black ufurping miftej fome gentle taper, . 
Though a rufh candle, from the wicker hole 
Of fome clay habitation, vifit us 
With thy long-levell'd rule of ftreaming light; 
And thou malt be our ftar of Aready, 
Or Tynan cynofure. 

Youngest Brother. Or, if our eyes 
Be barr'd that happinefs, might we but hear 
The folded flocks penn'd in their wattled cot, ' 
Or found of paft'ral reed with oaten ftops: 
Or whiftle from the lodge, or village-cock 
Count the night watches to his feathery damfcs, 
'Tvvouk! be fome folace yet ; fome little cheering 
In this ciofe dungeon of innuoa'rous boughs, 
But, oh! that haplefs virgin, our loft filler? 
Where may me wander now, whither betake her 
From the chill dew, amongfl rude burs and thirties 
Perhaps fome cold bank is her bolder now. 
Or 'gainit the rugged bark of fome broad elm ; 
Leans her unpillow'd head, fraught with fad fears. 
What if in wild amazement and affright, 
Or, while we fpeak, within the direful grafp 
Of favagc hunger, or of favage heat ? 

E. Broth. Peace, brother; be not over exquifite 
To caft the famion of uncertain $vils; 

k % For 



iJ6 ,. DIALOG U E S. Book V. 

For grant they be fo, while they reft unknown, 
What need a man foreftall his date of grief, 
And run to meet what he would moft avoid ? 
Or if they be but falfe alarms of fear, 
How bitter is fuch felf delufion ! 
I do not think my fitter To to feek, 
Or fo unprincipled in virtue's book, 
And the fvveet peace that goodnefs bofoms ever, 
As that the fingle want of light. and noife 
(Not being In danger, as I truft me is not) 
■Could ftir the conftant mood of her calm thoughts, 
And put them into mifbecoming plight. 
Virtue could fee to do what Virtue would 
By her own radiant light, though fun and moon 
Were in the flat fea funk : and Wifdom's felf 
Oft feeks to fweet retired fnTitude ; 
Where, with her beft nurfe, Contemplation, 
She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings, 
That in the various buftle of refort 
Were all too ruffled, and fometimes impaired. 
He that has light within his own clear breaft, 
May fit i'th' centre, and enjoy bright day : 
But he that hides a dark foul, and foul thoughts, 
benighted walks under the mid-day fun ; 
Himfelf is his own dungeon. 
Y. Broth. 'Tis moll true, 
That mufmg Meditation molt affecls 
The penfive fecrefy of defert cell, 
Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds, 
And fits as fafe as in a fenate houfe : 
For who would rob a hermit of his weeds, 
His few books, or his beads, or maple difh, 
Or do his gray hairs any violence? 
But beauty, like the fair Hefperian tree 
Laden "with blooming gold, had need the guard 
Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye, 
To fave her bloffoms, and defend her fruit 

From 



Chat. VII. DIALOGUES. IffT 

From the rath hand of bold incontinence. 

You may as well fpfead out the unfumm'd heaps 

Of priifers' treafure by an outlaw's den, 

And teU me it is fafe, as bid me hope 

Danger will wink an opportunity, 

And let a fingle helplefs maiden pafs 

V'ninjur'd in this wild fufrounding wafte; 

Of night or lonel-ineis it recks me not ; 

i fear the dread events that dog them both, 

;ome ill-greeting touch attempt the perfon 
Of our unowned lifter, f 

E. Broth. I do not, brother, 
Infer, as if I thought my lifter's Date 

ue without all doubt of controversy : 
¥et, where an equal poife of hope and fear 
Does arbitrate th' event, my nature is, 
That I incline to hope rather than fear, 
And gladly banifh fquint fufpicion, 
My filler is not fo defencelefs left 
As you imagine ! me lias a hidden ftrength, 
Which you remember not. 

Y. Broth. What hidden itrength, 
Unlefs the ftrengtb of Heav n, if you mean that ? 

E. Broth. I mean that too; but yet a hidden Itrength, 
Which, if Heav'n gave it, may be term'd her own: 
*Tis chaftity, my brother, chaftity. 
She that has that, is^clad in complete fteel, 
And, like a quiver' d nymph with arrows keen, 
May trace huge forefts, and unharbour'd heaths, 
Infamous hills, and fandy perilous wilds; 
Where, through the facred rays of chaftity, 
No favage, fierce bandit, or mountaineer, 
Will dare to foil her virgin purity; 
Yea there, where very deiblation dwells, 
By grots and caverns fhagg'd with horrid mades, 
She may pais on with unblench'd majefty, 
Be it net done in pride or in prefumption. 

x 3 Y, Brotk, 



1,98 DIALOGUES. Book V. 

Y.Broth. How gladly would I have my terrors hufh'd, 
By crediting the wonders you relate., 

E. Broth. Some fay, no evil thing that walks by night, 
In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorilh fen, 
Blue meagre hag, or ftubborn unlaid ghoft, 
That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, 
No goblin, or fwartJairy of the mine, 
Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity. 
Do ye believe me yet, or mall I call 
Antiquity from the old fchools of Greece, 
To terrify the arms of chaftity f 
Hence had the huntrefs Dian her dread bow, 
Fair nlver-fhafted queen, for ever chafte ! 
Wherewith me tam'd the brinded lionets 
And fpotted mountain pard,but fet at nought 
The frivolous bolt of Cupid : gods and men 
Fear'd her ftern frown, and me was queen o' th' woods. 
What was the fnaky-headed Gorgon fhield, 
That wife Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin ! 
Wherewith me freez'd her foes to congeal'd ftone, 
But rigid looks of chafte. au'fterity, 
And noble grace, that daih'd brute violence 
With fudden adoration and blank awe ? 

Y.Broth. But what are virtue's awful charms to thofe. 
Who cannot rev'rence what they never knew ? 

E. Broth. So dear to Heav'n is faintly chaftity, 
That when a foul is found fineerely (o, 
A thoufand liveried angels lackey her, 
Driving far off each thing of (in and guilt, 
And in clear dream and folemn virion 
Tell her of tilings that no grofs ear can hear: 
Till oft converfe with heav'nly habitants , ' 
Begin to call a beam.on th' outward fhape, 
The unpolluted temple of the mind, 
And turn it by degrees to the foul's eiTence, 
Till all be made immortal. 

Y. Broth. Happy ft ate. 

Beyond belief of. vice ! 

E, Broth. 



» hap. VIII. DIALOGUES. 199 

E. Broth. But when vile lull, 

By unchafte looks, looie geftures, and foul talk, 
But molt by lewd and lavifh act of fin, 
Lets in defilement to the inward parts, 
The foul grows clotted by contagion,. 
Imbodies, and imbrues, till me quite lofe 
The divine property of her firft being ; 
Such are thofe thick and gloomy fhadows damp, 
Oft feen in charnel vaults and fepulchres, 
Ling 'ring and fitting by a new-made grave, 
As loath to leave the body that it Jov'd, 
And link'd itfelf m carnal fenftudity 
To a degen'rate and degraded (late. 

Y. Broth. How charming is divine philofophyl 
Not harm and crabbed, as dull fools fuppofe, 
But mufical as is Apollo's lute, 
And a perpetual feaft of nectar' d fweets, 
Where n& crude furfeit reigns \ Milton. 






CHAP. VIII. 
CATHARINE and GRIFFITH. 



Grif. How does your grace? 

Cath. Griffith, fick to death; 
My legs, like loaded branches, bow to th' earth, 
Willing to leave their burden: reach a chair 
So — now methinks I feel a little eafe. 
Didft thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'ft me, 
That the great child of honour, Cardinal Woifey, 
Was dead? 

Gr,if. Yes, Madam: but I think. your grace, 
Out of the pain you fuffer'd, gave no ear to 't. 

Cath. Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died. 
If well, he ftept before me, happily 
For my example. 

Grif. Well, the voice goes, Madam: 
For after the {tout earl of Northumberland 

K 4 Arreftsd 



M» DIALOG UES. Book V. 

Arrefted him at York, and brought him forward 
(As & map forely tainted) to his anfwer, 
lie fefi Tick fuddenly, and grew fo ill 
He could not fit his mule. 

Cath, Alas, poor man ! 

G [iiF. At lad, with taiy roads, he came to Leicefter, 
Lodged la die-abbey ; where the rev'rend abbot, 
With all his convent, honourably received him : 
To whom he gave thefe words: " O father abbot! 
An old man, broken with the ilorms of irate, 
Is come to lay his w-.ary bones among ye : 
Give him a little eanji for charity!'' 
So went to bed; where eagerly his ficknefs 
Puriued him tiiil, and three nights after this, 
About the hour of eight (which he himfeif 
Foretold fliould be his lait) full of repentance, 
Continual meditations, tears, and Sorrows, 
lie gave his honours to the world again, 
His bleffed part to Heaven, and flept in peace. 

Catii. So may he reft, his faults lie buried with him ; 
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to fpeak him, 
-And yet with charity: he was a man 
Of an unbounded ftomach, ever ranking 
xHimfelf with princes; one that by fuggeltion 
Titlrd all the kingdom ; fimony was fair play: 
His own opinion was his law. F th- prefence 
He would fay untruths, and be ever double 
Both in his words and meaning. He was. never, 
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful. 
His prpmifes were, as he then was, mighty ; 
But his performance, as he now is, nothing. 
Ol his own body he was ill, and gave 
The :iergy ill example. 

GiiiF, Noble Madam, 
Men's evil manners live in brafs, their virtues 

.vrite m water. May it pleufe your highnefs, 
. me fpeak his good now r 

C.iTir. 



Chap. IX. DIALOGUES. 201 

Cath. Yes, good Griffith, 
I were malicious elfe. 

Grip. This cardinal, 
Though from an humble ftock, undoubtedly 
"Was famion'd to much honour from his cradle t 
He was a fcholar, and a ripe and good one : 
Exceeding wife, fair fpoken, and perfuading: 
Lofty and four, to them that lov'd him not, 
But to thole men that fought him, fweet as fummer;. 
And though he were unfatisfied in getting, 
(Which was a fin) yet in bellowing, Madam, 
He was molt princely; ever witnefs for him 
Thole twins of learning that he rais'd in } T cai, 
Icfwich and Oxford ! one of which fell with him/, 
Unwilling to outlive the good he did it : 
The other, though unriniih'd, yet fo famous,. 
So excellent in art, and frill fo riling, 
That Chriftendom fhall ever fpeak his virtue. 
His overthrow heap'd happinefs upon him; 
For then, and not till then, he felt himfelf, 
And found the bleffednefs of being little : 
And, to add greater honours to his age 

Than man could give him, he died, fearing God, 
Cat ii. After my death I with no other herald, 

No other fpeaker of my living actions, 

To keep mine honour from corruption, 

But fuch an honeft chronicler as Griffith.. 

Whom J molt hated, living, thou haft made me, 

With thy religious truth and modefty, 

Now, in ins allies, honour. Peace be with- -him ! 

SliAKSPEARE* 

C II A P. IX, 

TRIAL of S1IYLOCK. 

Duke.- Make room, and let him ftand before our face, 
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think fo too, 

k 5 That 



502 DIALOGUES. Book V. 

That thou but leaci'ft this fafhion of thy malice 
To the laft hour of ad ; and then, 'tis thought, 
Thou'lt mow thy mercy and remorfe more ftrange 
Than is thy ftrange apparent cruelty . 
And where thou now exact'ft the penalty, 
Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flefli, 
Thou wilt not only lofe the forfeiture, 
But, touch' d with human gentlenefs and love, 
Forgive a moiety of the principal ; 
Glancing an eye of pity on his lofles, 
That have of late fo huddled on his back, 
Enough to prefs a royal merchant down, 
And pluck commiferation of his ftate 
From braflfy bofoms, and rough hearts of flint ; 
From ftubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd 
To offices of tender courtefy. 
We all expecl a gentle anfwer, Jew.' 

Shy. I havepoffeiVd your grace of what I purpofe-: 
And by our holy Sabbath have I fworn, 
To have the due and forfeit of my bond ; 
If you deny it, let the danger light 
Upon your charter, and your city's freedom ! 
You'll afk me why I rather choofe to have 
A weight of carrion fleih, than to receive 
Three thoufand ducats ? I'll not anfwer that ;! 
But fay it is my humour; is it anfwered I 
What if my houfe be troubled with a rat, 
And I be pleas' d to give ten thoufand ducats 
To have it baned ? What, are you anfwered yet I 
Some men there are love not a gaping pig; • 
Some that are mad if they behold a cat ; 
And others> when the bagpipe rings i' th' nofe, 
Cannot contain their urine for affeclion. 
IViafterlefs paffion fways us to the mood^ 
Of what it likes or loathes. Now for your anfwer ; 
As there is no firm reafon to be render' dl 
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig ? 

Why 



Chap. IX. DIALOGUES. 203 

Why he a harmlefs neceffary cat, 

Why he a fwollen bagpipe, but of force 

Muff yield to fuch inevitable fhame, 

As to offend, himself being offended ; ■ 

So can I give no reafon, nor I will not, 

More than a lodg'd hate, and a certain loathing 

I bear Anthonio, that I follow thus 

A lofing fuit againft him. Are you anfwered ? 

Bassanio, This is no anfwer, thou unfeeling man, 
T excufe the current of thy cruelty. 

Shy. I am not bound to pleafe thee with my anfwer, 
Bass. Do all men kill the thing they do not love? 
Sh y. Hates any man the thing he would not kill r 
Bass. Ev'ry offence is not a hate at firfb. [twice?. 
Shy. What, would'ff thou have a ferpent fring thee 
Anthonio. Ipra}-you, think you queition with a Jew. 
You may as well go it.and upon the beach, 
And bid the main flood 'bate his ufual height ; 
You may as well ufe queftion with the wolf, 
When you behold the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 
You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
v To wag their high tops, and to make a noife 
When they are fretted with the gufts of Heav'n; 
You may as well do any thing moll hard, 
As feek to foften that (than which what's harder?) 
His Jewifh heart. Therefore I do befeech you, 
Make no more offers, ufe no farther means, 
But with all brief and plain conveniency 
Let me have judgment, and the Jew his wilb 

Bass. For thy three thoufancl ducats here are fix.. 
Shy. If ev'ry ducat in fix thoufand ducats 
Were in fix parts, and ev'ry part a ducat, 
I would not draw them, I would have nly bond, 

Duke. How (halt thou hope for mercy, rend' ring n oner 
Shy. What judgment fliall I dread, doing no w^tmg ? 
You have among you many a purchas'd flave, 
Which like your afies, and your dogs, and mules, 

K % You 



204 DIALOGUES. BogkV.. 

You u-fe in abject and in fl a villi part, 

Becaufe you bought them. Shall I fay to you, 

Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? 

Why fweat they under burdens ?: let their beds 

Be mads as foft as yours, and let their palates 

Be feafon'd with fuch viands r you will anfwer, 

The flaves are ours. So do I anfwer sou; 

The pound of flefh which I demand of him 

Is dearly bought, 'tis mine, and I will have it. 

If you deny me, lie upon your law, 

There is no force in the decrees of Venice : 

I ftand for judgment; anfwer; mall I have it ? 

Duke. Upon my pow'r I may difmifs this courts 
Unlefs Bellario,. a learned doctor, 
Whom I have fent for to determine this-, 
Come hc-re to day.. 

Salanio. My lord, here ftays without 
A meiTenger with letters from the doctor,. 
New come from Padua. 

Duke. Bring us the letters, call the meffengcrs,. 
Ba ss. Good cheer, Anthonio : what, man, courage yet;~ 
The Jew thall have my flelh, blood, bones, and all, 
Ere thou (halt lofe for me one drop of blood. 
Ast. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
Meeteft for death :. the weakeft kind of fruit 
Drops earliefl to the ground, and fo let me.. 
You cannot better be employ 'd, BafTanio, 
Than to live frill, and write mine epitaph.. 



Enter NePvISSAj dr.ejfcd like a Lawyer's Cleric. 






Buke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? 
Netu From both my lord ; Bellario greets your grace. 
Bass. Why cleft thou whet thy knife fo earneiliy ? 
Shy- To cut the forfeit from that bankrupt there. . 
Gratiaxo. Not on thy fole, but on thy foul, harfn 
Thou niak'ft thy knife keen ; for no metal can.. [Jew, 

No 



Chap. IX. DIALOGUES. 205 

No not the hangman's axe, bear half the keennefs 
Of thy fharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee ? 

Sn r. No, none that thou hail wit enough to make, 
Gn a. O be thou damn'd, inexorable dog! 
And for thy life let juftice be accus'd! 
-Thou aliiioft mak'st me waver in my faith. 
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,. 
That fouls of animals infufe themfelves 
Into the trunks of men. Thy currim fpirit 
Govern'd a wolf, who hang'd for human ilaughter r 
Ev'n from the gallows did. his fell foul fleet, 
And, v.hilit thou laidft in thy unhaliow'd dam, 
Infus'd itfeU* in thee : for thy defires 
Are wolfifhj bloody, ftarv'dj, and- ravenous. 

Shy. Till thou can'ft rail the feal from off my bcndj. 
. Thou but effend'ft thy lungs to fpeak fo loud. 
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 
To curelefs ruin. I ftand here for law. 

Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend 
A young and learned doctor to our court.. 
Where is he I 

Ner. He attendeth here hard by 
To know youi- anfwer, whether youTl admit him. 

Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four of yoiv 
Go, give him courteous conduct to this place. 

Enter Portia., dr.ctfed like a Docior of Lam. 

Duke. Give me your hand. Came you from. old 
Bellario ? 

Poit. I did, my lord. 

Du k e. You^re welcome : take your place, 
Are you acquainted with the difference, 
That holds this prefent queftion in the court ? 

Por. I am inform' d thoroughly of the cafe. 
Which is the merchant here ? and which the Jew ?■ 

Duke. Anthonio, and old Shyleck, both ftand forth. 

For. Is your name Shylo ck f 

SiiY, 



206 DIALOGUES. Book V. 

Shy. Shy lock is my name. 

Por. Of a ftrange nature is the fuit you follow ; 
Yet in fuch rule that the Venetian law 
Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. 
You ftand within his danger,do you not I [To Anthonio, 

Antb. Ay, fo he fays. 

Por. Do you confefs the bond ? 

Anth. I do. 

Por. Then muft the Jew be merciful. 

Shy. On what compulfion muft I ? Tell me that. 

Por. The quality of mercy is not ftrain'd^ 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heav'n 
Upon the place beneath. It is twite blefs'd: 
It bleffeth him that gives, and him that takes. 
? Tis mightiefl in the mightieft : it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown; 
His fceptre mows the force of. temporal pow'r, 
The attribute to awe and majefty, 
Wherein doth fit the dread and fear of kings : 
But mercy is above this fceptred fway, 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings ; 
It is an attribute of God himfelf ; 
And earthly pow'r doth then Ihow likeft God's, 
When meicy feafons juftice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though juftice be thy plea, confider this, 
That, in the courfe of juftice, none of us 
Should fee ialvation. We do pray for merey; 
And that fame pray'r doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. I have fpoke thus much, 
To mitigate the juftice of thy plea; 
Which, if thou follow, this ftrict court of Venice 
Muft needs give fentence 'gainft the merchant there. 

Shy. My deeds upon my head ! 1 crave the law, 
The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 

Por. Is he not able to difclmrge the money r> 

Bass. Yes, here I tender it for him in court; 
Yea, twice the ium ; if that will not futfice, 

9 I. will 



Cn a p. IX. DIALOGU E*5. 207 

I will be bound to pay it (en times o'er, 

On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart. 

If this will not fuffice, it miift appear 

That malice bears down truth. And I befeech you, 

Wreft once the law to your authority : 

To do a great right, do a little wrong, 

And curb this cruel devil of his will. 

For. It mull not be: there is no power in Venice 
Can alter a decree eftablifhed; 
'Twill be recorded for a precedent : 
And many an errour, by the fame example, 
Will rum into the Hate. It cannot be, 

Shy. A Daniel come to judgment! yea, aDaniel. 
O wife young judge, how do I honour thee 1 

Por. I pray you let me look upon the bond. 

Shy. Here 'tis moil reverend doctor, here it is. 

Por. Shylock, there's thrice thy money offered thee, 

Shy. An oath, an oath ! — =1 have an oath in Heav'n* 
Shall I lay perjury upon. my foul? 
No, not for Venice. 

Por. Why this bond is forfeit ; 
And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
A pound of flefh to be by him cut off, 
Neareil the merchant's heart. Be merciful, 
Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 

Shy. When it is paid according to the tenour, 
It doth appear you are a worthy judge ;, 
You know the law ; your expofition 
Hath been moil found. I. charge you, by the law* 
Whereof you are a well-deferving pillar, 
Proceed to judgment. By my foul ! I fwear. 
There is no power in the tongue of man 
To alter me. I ft ay here on my bond. 

Anth. Mod heartily I do befeech the court 
To give the judgment. 

Por. Why then thus it is : 
You mull prepare your bofom for his knife. 

Shit, 



20* DIALOGUE S. Bo ok V. 

Shy. O noble judge ! O excellent young man I 

Por. For the intent and purpofe of the law 
Hath full relation to the penalty, 
Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 

Shy. Tis very true. O wife and upright judge, 
How much more elder art thou than thy looks ! 

Por. Therefore lay bare your bofom. 

Shy. Ay, his breafl, 
So fays the bond, doth it not noble judge ? 
Neareft his heart, thofe are the very words. 

Por. It is fo. Are there fcales to weigh the fleih > 

Shy. I have them ready, 

Por. Have by fo me furgeon, Shylock, on your charge 
To ftop his wounds, left he Ihould bleed to death. 

Shy. Is it fo nominated in the bond ? 

Por. It is not fo exprefs'd, but.what of that ? 
'Twere good you do fo much' for charity. 

Shy. I cannot find it ; 'tis not in the bond. 

Por. .Come merchant, have you any thing to fay ? 

Anth. But little: I am arm'd and well prepar'd. 
Give me your hand, BkoTanio ; fare you well ! 
Grieve not that I am fali'n to this for you : 
For herein Fortune fhows herfelf more kind 
Than is her cuftoim It is ftill her ufe, 
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth ; 
To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow, 
An age of poverty: from which lingering penance 
Of fuch a mifery dcth ine cut me off. 
Commend me to year honourable wife: 
Tell her the procefs of Anthoniu's end;. 
Say, how I lov'd you ; fpcak me fair in death ; 
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge, 
Whether BafTanio. had not once a love. 
Repent not you that you mall lofe your friend ; . 
And he repents not that he pays your debt : 
For, if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 
I'll pay it inftantly, with all my heart,. 

:. 



eap. IX. DIALOGUES. 2Qg 

Bass. Anthonio, I am married to a wife, 
Which is as dear to me as life itfelf; 
Bat life itfelf, my wife, and all the world, 
Are not with me eiteem'd above thy life. 
I would lofe all, ay, facriiice them all 
Here to this devil, to deliver you. 

Port. Your wife would give you little thanks for that, 
were by to hear you make that oder. 

Gu a. 1 have a wife, whom I proteft, I love-; 
I would Hie were in lleav'n, fo llie could 
Intreat ibme pow'r to change this cnrriih Jew. 

Ner. Tis well you offer it behind her baek; 
The wiih would make elfe an uugu'iet houie. 

Shy. Theiebethe Chriftian hufbands 1 I've a daughter; 
Would any of the ftock of Barabbas. v 

I lad been her hufband rather than a Chriftian I 
^Ye trifle time — I pray thee purfue fentence, 

Por. A pound of that fame merchant's £eili is thine, 
The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 

Shy. Mod rigb tf ill j u dge ! 

Por. And you mufl cut this flefh from off his breaft, 
The law allows it, and the court awards it. 

Shy. Moil learned judge ! a fentence — come, prepare ! 

Pok. Tarry a little; there is fomething elfe: 
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood: 
The words exprefsly are a pound of flefh ; 
Then take thy bond, take thou thy pound of flefh; 
But, in tfie cutting it, if thou doft Hied 
One drop of Chriftian blood, thy lands and goods 
Are, by the laws of Venice, confifeate 
Unto the ftate of Venice. 

Git a. O upright judge ! Mark, Jew ; O learned judge ! 

Shy. Is that the law ? 

Por. Thyfelf mall fee the ad : 
For, as thou urgeft juftice, be allured, 
Thou limit have juftice, more than thou defir'ft.- 

Gua. O learned judge ! Mark, Jew, a learned judged 

Shy. 



210, DIALOGUES. Book V. 

Shy. I take this offer, then; pay the bond thrice, 
And let the Chriftian go. 

Bass. Here is the money. 

Por. The Jew mall have all jutf ice; foft; nohafte; 
lie (hall have nothing but the penalty. 

Gra. O Jew ! an -upright judge ! a learned judge ! 

Por. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the fk-./h : 
Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou lefs nor more 
But a juft pound of flefh; if thou tak'ft more 
Or lefs than juft a pound, be't but fo mfcch 
As makes it light or heavy in the fubftance 
Or the divifion of the twentieth part 
Of one poor fcruple ; nay, if the fcale turn 
But in the eflimation of a hair, 
Thou dieft, and all thy goods are confifeate. 

Gra. A fecond Daniel, a Daniel, Jew I 
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip. 

Por* Why doth the Jew paufe ? Take the forfeiture. 

Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go. 

Bass. I have it ready for thee ; here it is. 

Por.' He hath refus'd it in the open court; 
He fhall have merely juftice, and his bond. 

Gra. A Daniel, ftill 1 fay: a fecond Daniel ! 
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 

Shy. Shall I not barely have my principal ? 

Por.. Thou malt have nothing but the forfeiture, 
To be fo taken at thy peril, Jew. 

Shy. Why then the devil give him good of it. 
I'll ftay no longer queftion. 

Por. Tarry, Jew; 
•"The law hath yet another hold on you : 
It is enacled in the laws of Venice,. 
If it be prov'd againft an alien, 
That by direcl, or indirect attempts, 
He feek the life of any citizen, 
The party 'gainft the which he doth contrive, 
Shall feize on half his goods ; the other half 

Comes 



Chap. IX. DIALOGUES. 211 

Comes to the privy coffer of the Stated 
And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
Of the duke only, 'gainft all other voice. 
In which predicament, I fay, thou ftand'it. 
For it appears, by manifeft proceeding, 
That indireclly, and directly too, 
Thou haft contriv'd againft the very life 
Of the defendant : and thou hail incurr'd 
The danger formally by me rehears'd. 
Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke. 

G n a . Beg that thou may'll; have leave to hang tfayfelf; 
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the (late, 
Thou haft not left the value of a cord; 
Therefore thou muft be hang'd at the Hate's charge. 

Duke. That thou may'ft fee the difference of our fpirit ? 
I pardon thee thy life before thou afk it : 
For half thy wealth, it is Anthonio's; 
The other half comes to the general ftate, 
Which humblenefs may drive unto a fine. 

Por. Ay, for the ftate; not for Anthonio. 

Shy. Nay, take my life and all: pardon not that. 
You take my houfe, when you do take the prop 
That doth fuftain my houfe : you take my life, 
When you do take the means -whereby I live. 

Por. What mercy can you render him, Anthonio f 

Gra. A halter gratis, nothing elfe for God's fake. 

An tii. So pleafe my lord the duke, and all the court, 
To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 
I am content; fo lie will let me have 
The other half in ufe, to render it 
Upon his death unto the gentleman 
That lately ftole his daughter. 
Two things provided more ; that for this favour 
lie prefently become a Chriftian : 
The other, that he do record a gift 
Here in the court, of all he dies pofiefs'd, 
Unto his fon Lorenzo and his daughter. 

Duke. 



$12 DIALOGUES. Bock V. 

Duke. He mall do this, or elfe I do recant 
The pardon that I late pronounced here. 

Poit. Art thou contented, Jew ? what doft thou fay r" 

Shy. I am content. 

Poll. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 

Shy. I pray you give me leave to go from hence : 
I am not well; fend the deed after me, 
And I will fign it. 

Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 

Shakspeare, 




BOOK- VI. 
DESCRIPTIVE. PIECES. 

C II A P. I, 

CHARACTER or JU A III US. 

1 HE birth of Marias was obfcure,- though fbmecallit 
equeftrian. and his education wholly in camps ; where he 
learnt the fir it rudiments of war, under the greaieil mailer 
of that age, the younger Scip.io, who deftroyed Carthage; 
till, by long fervice, diftinguiihed valour, and a peculiar 
hardinefs and patience of diicipiine, he advanced himielf 
gradually through all the ftep^s of military honour, with 
the reputation of a brave and complete foldier. The ob- 
fcurity of his extraction, which depreiTed him with the 
nobility, made him the greater favourite of the people : 
who, on all occasions -of danger, thought him the only 
man fit to be trailed with their lives and fortunes, or to 
have the command of a difficult and aeTperate war: and in 
truth, he twice delivered them from the moll, defperate 
with which they had ever been threatened by'a foreign 
■enemy. Scipio, from the observation of his martial ta- 
lents, while he had yet but an inferior command in the 
army, gave a prophetic teilimcny of his future glory : for 
being afked by fome of his oiheers. who were flipping with 
him at Numantia, what general the republic would have 
in cafe of any accident to bimfelf : " That man," replied 
he, pointing to Marius at the bottom of the table. In the 
field he was cautious and provident; and while he was 
watching the moil favourable opportunities of action, af- 
fected to take all his meafures from augurs and diviners ! 
nor ever g- j ° battle till, by pretended omens and divine 
admonitions, lie had i nfpired his foldiers with a confidence 

of 



214 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book Vi. 

of victory : fo that his enemies dreaded him, as fomething 
more than mortal; and both friends and foes believed him 
to act always by a peculiar impulfe and direction from the 
gods. His merit, however, was wholly military, void of 
every accomplishment of learning, which he openly af- 
fected to defpife; fo that Arpinum had the fingular feli- 
city to produce the moll glorious contemner as well as 
the moil illuftrious improver of the arts and eloquence of 
Kome. He made no figure, therefore, in the gown, nor 
had any other way of fuftaining his authority in the city, 
than by cherifhing the natural jealoufy between the fenate 
and the people; that by his declared enmity to the one, 
he might always be at the head of the other ; whofe fa- 
vour he managed, not with any view to the public good, 
for he had nothing hi him of the ftatefman or the patriot, 
but to the advancement of his private intereft and glory. 
In fhort, he was crafty, cruel, covetous, and perfidious ; of 
a temper and talents greatly ferviceable abroad, but tur- 
bulent and dangerous at home : an implacable enemy to 
the nobles, ever feeking occafions to mortify them, and 
Teady to facrince the republic, which he had faved, to his 
ambition and revenge. After a life fpeht in the perpetual 
toils of foreign or domeftic wars, he died at laft in his bed, 
in a good old age, and in- his feventh confulfhip ! an 
honour that no Roman before him ever attained. 

Midclf.tont, 

C H A P. II. 
CHARACTER of SYLLA. 

Syll a died after he had laid down the di&ato'rfhip, and 
reftored liberty to the republic, and, with an uncommon 
great nefs of mind, lived many months as a private fenator, 
and with perfect fecurity, in that city where he had ex- 
ercifed the molt bloody tyranny : but nothing was thought 
to be greater m his character, than that, during the three 
■years in which the Marians \vere mailers of Italy, he 

neither 






Chap. II. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 215 

neither dififembled his refolution of purfuing them by 
arms, nor neglected the war which he had upon his hands; 
but thought it his duty, firft to chaftife a foreign enemy, 
before he took his revenge upon citizens. His family was 
noble and patrician, which yet, through the indolence of 
his anceftors, had made no figure in the republic for many 
generations, and was almoft funk into obfcurity, till he 
produced it again into light, by afpiring to the honours of 
the ftate. He was a lover and a patron of polite letters, 
having been carefully inftituted himfelf in all the learning 
of Greece and Rome; but from a peculiar gayety of tem- 
per, and fondnefs for the company of mimics and players, 
was drawn, when young, into a life of luxury and plea- 
fare; fo that when he was fentquaeftor to Marius, in the 
Jugurthine war, Marius complained, that in fo rough and 
defperate a fervice, chance had given him fo foft and de- 
licate a quaeftor. But whether roufed by the example, or 
ftung by the reproach of his general, he behaved himfelf 
in that charge with the greateft vigour and courage, fuf- 
fenng no man to outdo him in any part of military duty 
or labour, making himfelf equal and familiar even to the 
loweft of the foldiers, and obliging them all by his good 
offices and his money; fo that he foon acquired the favour 
of the army, with the chara&er of a brave and fkilful 
commander; and lived to drive Marius himfelf, baniihed 
and profcribed,into that very province where he had been 
contemned by him at firft as his quaeftor. He had a won- 
derful faculty of concealing hispamons and purpofes, and 
was fo different from himfelf in different circumftances, 
that he feemed as it were to be two men in one : no man 
wasever more mild and moderate before victory ; none 
more bloody and cruel after it. In war he praclifed the 
fame art that he had feen fo fuccefsful to Marius, of xaifmg 
a kind, of enthufiafm and contempt of danger in his army, 
by the forgery of aufpices and divine admonitions : for 
which end he carried always about with him a little ftatue 
ot Apollo, taken from the temple of Delphi: and whenever 

he 



SlG DESCRIPTIVE PIECES; Boole Vll 

he had rofolved to give battle, ufed to embrace it in fight 
of the fold iers, and beg the fpecdy cdnfirmattioh of its pro- 
mises to him. From an uninterrupted courfe of fucceft 
and profperity, he amimed a furname, unknown before to 
the Romans, of Felix, or the FbftunaCe ; and would have 
been fortunate indeed, fays VeHeius, if his life had ended 
with his victories. Pliny calls it a wicked title, drawn 
from the blood and oppreffion of his country; for which 
pofter-ity would think him more unfortunate even than 
thofe whom he had put to death. He had one felicity, 
however/peculiar to himfelf, of being the only man in 
hiftory, in whom the odium of the mofr barbarous cruelties 
was extinguifhed by the glory of his great acis. Cieero, 
though lie had a good opinion of his eaufe, yet dotef; ed the 
inhumanity of his neldries ; and never {peaks of bhh with 
refpecl, nor of his government, but as a proper tyranny ; 
calling him "a mailer of three moll penitent vices, lux- 
ury, avarice, cruelty." He was the firft of his family, 
\\ hofe dead body was burnt : for having ordered Marius's 
remains to be taken out cf his grave, and. thrown into the 
river Anio, he was apprcheunve of the fame intuit upon 
his own, if left to the ufual way of burial. A little before 
Iiis death, he made his own epitaph, -the fum of which 
was, " that no man had ever gone 'beyond him in doing 
u good to his friends, or hurt -to his enemies." 

MlBDLETON. 

C H A F. III. 

CHARACTER of POMPEY. 

' Pompe'y had early acquired the furname of The Great, 
by that fort of merit which, from the cojrftitution of the 
republic, neceflarily made him great; a fame and fuccei's 
in war, fupericr to what Rome had ever known in the 
moll celebrated of her generals. lie had triumphed at 
three feveral times over the three different parts of the 
known world, Europe, Aha, Africa; and b# his victories ! 
+- had 



Chap. HI. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 217 

had almoft doubled the extent, as well as the revenues, 
of the Roman dominion ; for, as he declared to the people 
on his return from the Mithridatic war, he had found the 
Letter Afia the boundary, but left it the middle of their 
empire. He was about fix years older than Casfar : and 
while Caefar, immerfed in pleafures, opprefled with debts, 
and fufpe&ed by all honeft men, was hardly able to mow 
his head, Pompey was fiourifhing in the height of power 
and glorv, and by the confent of all parties placed at the- ' 
head of the republic. This was the poft that his ambnlo.-; 
feemed to aim at, to be the firft man in Rome ; the leader 
not the tyrant of his country : for he more than once had 
it in his power to have -made himfelf the matter of rt 
without any rifle ; if his virtue, or his phlegm, at leafr, had 
not reftrained him: but he lived in a perpetual cxpech*.- 
tion of receiving from the gift of the people, what he did ■ 
not care to feize by force ; and by fomenting the difordtira* I 
of the city, hoped to drive them to the necefiity of creat- 
ing him dictator. 

It is an obfervation of all the hiitorians, that while- 
Caefar made no difference of power, whether it was con- 
ferred or ufurped ; whether over thofe who loved, or thofe 
who feared him ; Pompey feemed to value none but what 
was offered ; nor to have any defire to govern, but with 
the good-will of the governed. What leifure he found 
from his wars, he employed in the fludy of polite letters, 
and efpecially of eloquence, in which he would have ac- 
quired great fame, if his genius had not drawn him to the ■ 
more dazzling glory of arms : yet he pleaded feveral caufes 
with applaufe, in defence of his friends and clients; and •■■ r 
fome of them in conjunction with Cicero. His language 
was copious and elevated ; his fentimeuts juft , his voice 
fweet; his action noble, and full of dignity. Buthis'talents 
were better formed for arms than the gown : for though 
in both he obferved the fame discipline ;-a perpetual mo- 
defty, temperance, and gravity of. outward behaviour ; 
yet in the lieenfe of camps the example was-more rare and 
L ftrikins. 



218 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 
linking. His perfon was extremely graceful, and im- 
printing refpecl; yet with an air of refer ved haughtinefs, 
which became the general better than the citizen. His 
parts were plaufible, rather than great ; fpecious, rather 
than penetrating; and his views of politics but narrow; 
for his chief instrument of governing was diffimulatiou ; 
yet he had not always the art to conceal his real fcnti- 
m'ents. As he was a better foldier than a ttatefman, fo 
what he gained in the camp, he ufually loft in the city; 
and though adored when abroad, was often affronted and 
mortified at home, till the imprudent oppofition of the 
fenate drove him to that alliance with Craflus and Ca?far, 
which proved fatal both to himfelf and the republic. He 
took in thefe two, not as the partners, but the minifte-rs 
rather of his power; that by giving them fome mare with 
him, he might make his own authority uncontrollable. 
He had no reafon to apprehend that they could ever prove 
his rivals ; fince neither of them had any credit or charac- 
ter of that kind, which alone could raife them above the 
laws; a fuperior fame and experience in war, with the 
militia of the empire at their devotion: all this was purely 
his .own; till, by cheriming Ca?far, and throwing into his 
hands the only thing which he wanted, arms and military 
command, he made him at laft too ftrong for himfelf, 
and never began to fear him till it was too late. Cicero 
warmly diffuaded both his union, and his breach with 
C<efar; and, after the rupture, as warmly ftill the thought 
of giving him battle: if any of thefe counfels had been 
followed, Pompey had preferved his life and honour, and 
the republic its liberty. But he was urged to his fate by a 
natural fuperftition, and attention to thofe vain auguries 
with which lie was flattered by all the harufpices : he 
had feen the fame temper in Marius and Sylla^and ob- 
ferved the happy effecls of it; but they aimmed it only 
out of policy, he out of principle. They ufed it to ani- 
mate the foldiers, when they had found a probable oppor- 
tunity of fighting : but he, againit all prudence and pro- 
bability , 



Chap. III. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 219 

bability, was encouraged by it to fight to his own ruin. 
He faw all his miitakes, at laft, when it was out of his 
power to correct them ; and, in his wretched flight from 
Pharfalia, was forced to confefs that he had trufted too 
much to his hopes; and that Cicero had judged better, 
and feen farther into things than he. 

The refolution of feeking refuge in Egypt finished the 
fad cataftrophe of this great man. The father of the 
reigning prince had been highly obliged to him for his . 
protection at Rome, and reftoration to his kingdom ; and 
the fon had lent a confiderable fleet to his affiilance in the 
prefent war; but in this ruin of his fortunes, what gra- 
titude was there to be expected from a court governed by 
eunuchs and mercenary Greeks ? all whofe politics turned, 
not on the honour of the king, but the eitablifhment of 
their owi>po\ver ; which was likely to be eclipfed by the 
admiflion of Pompey. How happy had it been for him to 
have died in that ficknefs, when all Italy was putting up 
vows and prayers for his fafety ! Or, if he had fallen by 
the chance of war on the plains of Pharfalia, in the de- 
fence of his country's liberty, he had died lull glorious, 
though unfortunate : but, as f! he had been reserved for 
an example of the inltability of human greatnefs, he who, 
a few days before, commanded kings and confuls, and all 
the nobleiTe of Rome, was fentenced to die by a council of 
Haves; murdered by a bafe delerter; caft out naked and 
headlefs on the Egyptian ft rand ; and, when the whole 
earth, asVelleius fays, had fcarce been fufficient for his 
victories, could not rind a fpot upon it at laft for a grave ? 
His body was burnt on the ihore by one of his freed-men, 
with the planks of an old filhing-boat; and his aflies, being 
conveyed to Rome, were depofited privately by his wife 
Cornelia in a vault of his Alban Villa. The Egyptians, 
however, railed a monument to him on the place, and 
adorned it with figures of brafs, which being defaced 
afterwards by time, and buried almoft in fand and rubbilh, 
was fought out, and reitored by the emper j. Hadrian. 

L 2 MlDDLETON, 



220 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

CIIA.P. IV. 

CHARACTER of JULIUS CJESAR. 

C.T.SAR was endowed with every great and noble qua- 
lity that could exalt human nature, and give a man the 
afcendant in fociety: formed to excel in peace, as well 
as war; provident in counfcl • fearlefs in adion; arid 
executing what he had refolved with an amazing celerity; 
generous beyond meafureto his friends; placable to Iris 
enemies; and for parts, learning, eloquence, fcarce in- 
ferior to any man. His orations were admired for. two 
qualities, which are feldom found together, ftrength and 
elegance. Cicero ranks him among the greateft orators 
that Rome ever bred : and Quintilian fays, that he fpoke 
with the Dime force with which he fought ; and, if he had 
devoted himfelf to the bar, would have been the only man 
capable of rivalling Cicero. Nor was he a mafter only of 
the politer arts, but converfant alfo with the moll abftrufe 
and critical parts of learning ; and, among other works 
which he published, addreffed two books to Cicero, on 
the analogy of language, or the art of fpeaking and writ- 
ing correctly. He was a molt liberal patron of wit and 
learning, wherefoever they were found; and, out of his 
love of thofe talents, would readily pardon thofe who had 
employed them againft himfelf ; rightly judging that by 
making fu£h men his friends, he mould draw praifes from 
the fame fountain from which he had been afperfed. His 
capital paffions were ambition, and love of pleafure, which 
he indulged in their turns to the greateft excels; yet the 
Jtrft was always predominant, to which he could eafily 
fachnce all the charms of the fecond,and draw pleafure 
even from toils and dangers, when they miniftered to his 
glory. For he thought tyranny, as Cicero fays, thegreatefl 
of goddefles ; and had frequently in his mouth a verfe of 
Euripides, which expreffed the image of his foul, that if 
right and juftice were ever to be violated, they were to be 

violated 






Chap.V. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. &i 

violated for the fake of reigning. This was the chief end 
and purpofe of his life; the fcheme that he had formed 
from his early youth : fo that, as Cato truly declared of 
him, he came with fobriety and meditation to the fubver- 
fion of the republic. He ufed to fay, that there were two 
things neceffary to acquire and to fupport power ; foldiers 
and money; which yet depended mutually on each other ; 
with money therefore he provided foldiers ; and with fol- 
diers extorted money; and was of all men the moft rapa- 
cious in plundering both friends and foes : fparing neither 
prince nor ftate, nor temple, nor even private perfons, 
who were known to poffefs any mare of treafurs. His 
great abilities would necefTarily have made him one of 
the firit citizens of Rome ; but difdaining the condition 
pi a fubje&, he could never reft till he had made himfelf 
a monarch. In acting. this laft part, his ufual prudence 
feemed to fail him; as if the height to which he was 
mounted had turned his head, and made him giddy : for, 
by a vain oftentation of his power, he deftroyed the liabi- 
lity of it; and as men fhorten life by living too faft, ft* 
by an intemperance of reigning, he brought his reign to 
a violent end. , Middleton, 

C H A P. V. 
CHARACTER of CATO. 

If we confider the character of Cato without prejudice., 
he was certainly a great and worthy man; a friend to 
truth, virtue, liberty: yet, falfely meafuring all duty by 
the abfurd rigour of the ftoical rule, he was generally dis- 
appointed of the end which he fought by it, the happinefs 
both of his private and public life. In his private conduct 
he was fevere, morofe, inexorable; baniiriing all the fofter 
affections, as natural enemies to juftice, and as fuggefting 
falfe motives of acting, from favour, clemency, and com- 
panion : in public affairs he was the fame; had but one 
rule of policy, to adhere to what was right without regard 
L 3 to 



222 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 
to times or circumftances, or even to a force that could 
control him ; for, inftead of managing the power of the 
great, fo as to mitigate the ill, or extract any good from 
it, he was urging it always to acts of violence by a perpe- 
tual defiance ; fo that, with the beft intentions in the 
world, he often did great harm to the republic. This was 
Lis general behaviour; yet, from fome particular facts, it 
appears that hisftrength of mind was not always impreg- 
nable, but had its weak places of pride, ambition, and 
party zeal ; which when managed, and flattered to a cer- 
tain point, would betray him fometimes into meafures 
contrary to his ordinary rule of right and truth. The laft 
act of his life was agreeable to his nature and philofophy : 
when he could no longer be what he had been ; or when 
the ills of life overbalanced the good, which, by the prin- 
ciples of his feci, was a juft caufe for dying; he put an 
end to his life, with a fpirit and refolution, which would 
make one imagine, that he was glad to have found an 
occasion of dying in his proper1:haracter. On the whole, 
his life was rather admirable, than amiable; fit to be 
praifed, rather than imitated. 

MlDDLETON. 

C II A P. VI. 

CHARACTER of the VIRTUOUS MAN. 
He who inhis youth improves his intellectual powers 
in the fearchof truth and ufeful knowledge, and refines 
and ftrengthens his moral and active powers by the love 
of virtue, for the fervice of his friends, his country, and 
mankind; who is animated by true glory, exalted by fa- 
cred friendfhip for focial, and foftened by virtuous love for 
domeftic life ; who lays his heart open to every other mild 
and generous affection ; and who, to all thefe, adds a fober, 
maiculine piety, equally remote from fuperftition and en- 
thuhafm, that man enjoys the moft agreeable youth, and 
lays in the richeft fund for the honourable action and 
happy enjoyment of the fucceeding periods of life. 

* He 



Chap. VII. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 223 
He who in manhood keeps the offenfive and private 
paffions under the wifeft reftraint ; who forms the moft 
felect and virtuous friendfhips ; who i'eeks after fame, 
wealth, and power, in the road of truth and virtue, and, 
if he cannot find them in that road, generoufly defpifes 
them; who, in his private character and connections,. 
gives fulleft fcope to the tender and manly paliions, and 
in his public character and connections ferves his coun- 
try and mankind in the moit upright and dihnterefted 
manner ; who, in fine, enjoys the goods of life with the 
greateft moderation, bears its ills with the greatelt forti- 
tude, and in thofe various circumftances of duty and 
trial, maintains and expreties an habitual and fupreme 
reverence and love of God, that man is the w T orthieli 
character in this ltage of life ; panes through it with the 
higheil fatisfaction and dignity ; and paves the way to the 
moit eafy and honourable old age. 

Finally, he who, in the decline of life, preferves 
himfelf moft exempt from the chagrins incident to that 
period, cherimes the moft equal and kind affections ; ufes 
his experience,wifdom, and authority, in the molt fatherly 
and venerable manner ; acts under a fenfe of the infpec- 
tion, and with a view to the approbation of his Maker; is 
daily afpiring after immortality, and ripening apace for 
it; and, having fuftained his part with integrity and con- 
fiftency to the lair, quits the ftage with a modeil and grace- 
ful triumph, this is the belt, this is the happieft old man. 
Therefore that whole life of youth, manhood, and old 
age, which is fpent after this manner, is the bell and the 
happieft life. Fordyce, 

f CHAP. VII. 

CHARACTER of a TRUE FRIEND. 

Concerning the-man you call your friend — tell mn, 
Will he weep with you in the hour of your diftrefs ? Will 
he faithfully reprove you to your face, for actions for 

i< 4> which 



224 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

which others are ridiculing or cenfuring you behind your 
back ? Will he dare to ftand forth in your defence, when 
detraction is fecretly aiming its deadly weapons at your 
reputation ? Will he acknowledge you with the fame 
cordiality, and behave to you. with the fame friendly at- 
tention, in the company of your fuperiors in rank and 
fortune, as when the claims of pride or vanity do not tn- 
terfere with thofe of friendship ? If misfortunes and loiies 
mould oblige you to retire into a walk of life, in which 
you cannot appear with the fame diftinclion, or entertain 
your friends with the fame liberality as formerly, will ht 
itill think himfelf happy in your fociety, and, inftead of 
gradually withdrawing himfelf from an unprofitable con- 
nection, take plcafure in profeffing himfelf your friend, 
and cheerfully afliftyou to fupport the burden of your af- 
'fliclions ? When ficknefs mall call you to retire from the 
gay and bufy fcenes of the world, will he follow j^ou into 
your gloomy retreat, liften with attention to your " tale 
of fymptoms," and minifler tke balm of confolation to 
.your faintiog fpiritr And, iaftly, when death (hall burft 
afunder every earthly tie, will he fhed a tear upon your 
Jgrave, and lodge the dear remembrance of your mutual 
friendihip in his heart, as a treafure never to be refigned r 
The man who will not do all this, may be your com- 
panion — your flatterer — your feducer — but, believe me, 
lie is not your friend. . E. 

CHAP. VIII. 
THE RULING PASSION. 

. 'Search then the Ruling Paffion, there, alone, 
The wild are conftaiit, and the cunning known ; 
The fool confident, and the falie fincere: 
Prieft's, princes, women, no diffemblers here. 
This clew, once found, unravels all the reft, 
Tbt: profpecl clears, and Wharton ftands confer! 
Wharton, the fcorn and wonder of our days, 
Whofe ruling paifiGii was the luft of praife : 

Born 






Chap. VIM. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 225 

Born with whate'er could win it from the wife, 

Women and fools muir. like him, or he dies : 

Though wond'ring fenates hung on all he fpoke, 

The club muft hail him mailer of the joke. • 

Shall parts fo various aim at nothing new ? 

He'll mine a Tully and a Wilmot too. 

Then turns repentant, and his God adores 

With the fame fpirit that he drinks and whores ; 

Enough if all around him but admire, 

And now the punk applaud, and now the friar. 

Thus with each gift of nature and of art, 

And wanting nothing, but an honeft heart; 

Grown all to all, from no one vice exempt; 

And moft contemptible, to ihun contempt ; 

His paflion (Jill, to covet gen'ral praife, 

His life, io forfeit it a thoufand ways ; 

A conftant bounty which no friend has made ; 

An angel tongue, which no man can perfuade ; 

A fool, with more of wit than half mankind,' 

Too rafh for thought, for action too-refm'd: 

A tyrant to the wife his heart approves; 

A rebel to the very king he loves; / 

He dies, lad outcail of each church and rtate ? . 

And, harder itill! flagitious, yet not great., 

Aik you why Wharton broke through ev'ry rule? 

Twas all for fear the knaves mould call him focL. 

Nature well known, no prodigies remain, 

'Comets are regular, and Wharton plain. 

Yet, in this fearch, the w.ifeft may miilake, 
If fecond qualities for iirit they take. 
When Catiline by rapine fweli'd his itore; 
When Ca?far made a noble dame a whore.; 
In this the lult, in that the avarice 
Were means, not ends; ambition was the vice^ 
That very Casfar, bom in Scipio's days, 
Had aim'd, like him, by chaitity at praife. 
Lucullus, when frugality could charm, 
Had roailed turnips in the Sabine farm. 

L .5 In 



2&> DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 
In vain th' obferver eyes the builder's toil, 
But quite miftakes the fcaffold for the pile. 

In this one pallion man can Strength enjoy, 
As fits give vigour juft when they deftroy. 
Time, that on all things lays hio lenient hand, 
Yet tames not this; it fticks to our laft fand. 
Confident in our follies and our fins, 
Here honeft Nature ends as (lie begins. 

Old politicians chew on wifdom pad, 
And totter on in bufmefs to the laft; 
As weak, as earneft: and as gravely out, 
As fober Lanefb'row dancing in the gout. 

A falmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate ; 
The doclor call'd, declares all help too late; 
" Mercy!" cries Helluo, " mercy on my foul: 
Is there no hope ? — Alas ! — then bring the jowl/! 

The frugal crone, whom praying priefts attend, 
Still drives to fave the ballow'd taper's end, 
Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires, 
For one puff more, and in that putf expires. 

u Odious ! in woollen f 'twould a faint provoke," 
(Were the laft words that poor Narciffa fpoke) 
" No, let a charming chintz, and Bruffels lace 
Wrap my cold limbs, and (hade my lifelefs face : 
One would not, fure, be frightful when one's dead — 
And — Betty — give this cheek a little red." 

The courtier fmooth, who forty years had mind 
An humble fervant to all human kind, 
Juft brought out this, when fcarcehis tongue could flirt 
* 4 If — where I'm going — I could ferve you, Sir 1" 

" 1 give and I devife," (old Euclio faid, 
And figh'd) " my lands and tenements to Ned'/' 
Your money, Sir : " My money, Sir, what all ? 
Why, — if 1 muft — (then wept) I give it Paul." 
The manor, Sir ? — " The manor ! hold," he cried, 
" Not that, — I cannot pari with that," — and died. 






Chap. IX. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 227 

CHAP. IX. 
THE ACTOR. 

The Player's province they but vainly try 
Who want thefe pow'rs : Deportment, Voice, and Eye. 

The critic fight 'tis only grace can pleafe, 
Nor figure charms us if it has not eafe. 
There are, who think the ftature all in all, 
Nor like the hero if he is not tall. 
The feeling fenfe all other wants fupplies, 
I rate no a&or's merit from his fize. 
Superior height requires fuperior grace, 
And what's a giant with a vacant face ? 

Theatric monarchs, in their tragic gait, 
Affecl to mark the folemn pace of flate : 
One foot put forward in pofition ftrong, 
The other, like its vaffal, dragg'd along: 
So grave each motion, fo exacl and flow, 
Like wooden monarchs at a puppetfhow. 
The mien delights us' that has native grace, 
But affeftati®n ill fupplies its place. 

Unfkilful aclors, like your mimic ape?, 
Will writhe the body in a thoufand fhapes ; 
However foreign from the poet's art, 
No tragic hero but admires a ftart. 
What though unfeeling of the nervous line, 
Who but allows his attitude is fine ? 
While a whole minute equipois'd he Hands 
Till praife difmifs him with her echoing hands ! 
Reiblv'd, though Nature hate the tedious paufe, 
By perfeverance to extcrt applaufe. 
When Romeo, forrowing at his Juliet's doom, 
With eager madnefs burits the canvafs tomb, 
The fudden whirl, ftretch'd leg, and lifted fcaffj 
Which pleafe the vulgar, make the critic laugh. 

To paint the paffions' force, and mark it well* 
Tho proper action Nature's felf will tell : 

l 6 No 



r 2$S DESC IMP LIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

No pleafing povv'rs distortions e'er exprefs 

And nicer judgment alfo loathes excefs. 

In fock or buikin, who o'erleaps the bounds, 

Diigufts our reafon, and the taile confounds* 

Of all the evils which the ftage moleft, 

I hate your fool who overalls his jeft ; 

Who murders what the' poet finely writ, 

And, like a bungler, haggles all bis wit 

With fhrug, and grin, and gefture out of plat? , 

And writes a foolifh comment with his face. 

The word and aclion Should conjointly fuit. 
But a&ing words is labour too minute. 
Grimace will ever lead the judgment wrong : 
While fober humour marks th' imprefnon Strong. 
Uer proper traits the fix'd attention hit, 
And bring me clofer to the poet's wit; 
With her delighted, o'er each fcene I go, 
Well pleas'd, and not aflmm'd of being fo. 

But let the generous actor lull forbear 
To copy features with a mimic's care ! 
*Tis a poor Skill, which ev'ry fool can reach. 
A vile flage cuftom, " honour'd in the breach." 
Worfe, as more clofe, the difmgenuous art 
But Ihows the wanton loofenefs of the heart. 
When I behold a wretch of talents mean 
Drag private foibles on the public fcene, 
Forfaking Nature's fair and open road 
To mark fome whim, fome Strange peculiar mod?; 
Fir'd with difguft, I loathe his fervile plan, 
Defpife the mimic, and abhor the man. 
Go to the lame, to hofpitals repair, 
And hunt for humour in diftortions there ! 
Fill up the meafure of the motley whim 
With Shrug, wink, muffle, and convulfive limb : 
Then fhame at once, to pleafe a trilling age, 
Good fenfe, good manners, virtue, and the ftage ! 

'Tie 



Chap. IX. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 229 

'Tis not enough the voice be found and clear, 
Tis modulation that muft charm the ear. 
When defperate heroines grieve with tedious moan, 
And whine their forrows in a fee-faw tone, 
The fame foft founds of unimpaffion'd woes 
Can only make the yawning hearers doze. 

The voice all modes of paffion can exprefs, 
That marks the proper word with proper ftrefs. 
But none emphatic can that actor call, 
Who lays an equal emphafis on all. 

Some o'er the tongue the labour' d meafures roll ? 
Slow and delib'rate as the parting toll, 
Point ev'ry ftop, mark ev'ry paufe fo flrong, 
Their words like ftage procefiions ftalk along. 
All affectation but creates disguft, 
And e'en in fpeaking we may feem too juft. 
In vain for them the pleaiing meafu re flows, 
Whofe recitation runs it all to profe ; 
Repeating what the poet fets not down, 
The verb disjointing from its friendly noun, 
While paufe, and break, and repetition, join 
To make a difcord in each tuneful line. 

Some placid natures fill th' allotted icene 
With iifelefs drone, infipid and ierene ; 
While others thunder ev'ry couplet o'er, 
And almoit crack your ears with rant and roar* 

More nature oft, and finer iliokes, are fiiowa 
In the low whifper than tempeftuous tone. 
And Hamlet's hollow voice, and nx'd amaze, 
More powerful terrour to the mind conveys 
Than he who, fwoll'n with big impetuous rag« 9 
Bullies the bulky phantom off the ftage. 

He, who in earnelt ftudies o'er his part, 
Will find true nature cling about his heart. 
The modes of grief are not included all 
In the_ white handkerchief and mournful drawl ; . 

A fingl* 



230 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

A Tingle look more marks th' internal wo, 

Than all the windings of the lengthen'd Oh ! 

Up to the Face the quick fenfation flies, 

And darts its meaning from the fpeaking Eyes ; 

Love, tranfport, madnefs, anger, fcorn, defpair, 

And all the paffions, all the foul is there. 

Lloyd. 



CHAP. X. 
ODE TO EDUCATION. 

When now on Britain's Seagirt flrore, 

Refounds the threatening voice of war ; 
Burfts the loud cannon's frequent roar; 

And glares the enfign from afar ; 
The Mufe who fhuns the harm alarms 
That wake the madding world to arms, 
And fcorns to fliare the factious rage 
That prompts to deeds of blood the age; 
Turns joyful to thofe happier feats 

Where faered Science loves to reft, 
And Genius, 'midft the calm retreats, 

Pours all his influence o'er the breaft : 
Not more rever'd the hallow'd bow'rs, 
Where truth diftill'd from Plato's honied tongue ; 
Nor thofe fair fcenes, where Tully's happier hours 
In philofophic leifure fled along. 

There Education, power divine ! 

Pier favourite temple long has plann'd, 
And calls around her facred fhrine, 

To guard her laws, a chofen band. 
Where 3^011 fair dome its front up rears, 
Her venerable form appears ; 
To the young view one hand difplays 
The wreath of honourable praife : 

With 



Ciiap.X. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 231 
With itronger grafp her left fuftains 
The harlher emblems of control, 
That check wild Folly's headlong reins, 

And bend the rude and ftubbern foul : 
In dreadful ftate behind her glide 
Her handmaids. Fear, and Jealoufy, and Shame; 
By whom (lie knows the youthful ftep to guide, 
To peace, to virtue, excellence, and fame. 

Mark, how th' attentive votaries throng 

Where ihe her genuine lore imparts ! 
And catch from her infpiring tongue 

The thirft of praife, the love of arts. 
As me unveils the brighter day, 
The fhades of errour melt away, 
And facred Truth, of hmple mien, 
In all her native charn^ is feen: 
— Not fhe who o'er her ihadowy coaft 

Long led th' inquiring mind aftray, 
In dull icholaitic reafonings loft, 

'While Ariftotle led the way; 
But me who Bacon's vows approv'd, 
And o'er his hours of meditation ftole, 
Who at one glance (each lingering doubt remov'd) 
With charms congenial itrikes the human foul. 

What joy ! while youth its aid fupplies, 
To trace the years that long have fled, 

And bid th' illuftrious forms arife 
Of fages, and of warriors dead : 

In foft attention catcli the found 

That Virgil's genius pours around, 

Sweet, as when firft the matchlefs fonc 

Spontaneous echo'd from his tongue; 

With fprightly Horace fmile at care, 
And ev'ry fleeting hour improve ;. 

With exil'd Ovid drop the tear, 
And with Tibullus melt in love : 

Or, 



232 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

Or when, by Cicero taught to flow, 
Strong and unfettered rolls the nervous line, 
To feel his paffions, catch his genuine glow, 
His conquering warmth, and energy divine! 

But whilft elate the youthful bands 

Each beauty of pail ages (hare, 
Her wonted victims Life demands, 

And points to more fubftantial care ; 
Severer ftudies then engage 
The feafons of maturer age, 
• To fill with dignity and eafe 
The feveral ltations Heaven decrees. 
— Yon fprightly train, who erft were joy'd 

To trace each herb of varied hue, 
That decks the mountain's vernal 'fide, 
And Nature's bafhful fteps purfue ; 
Ere long, improv'd by ftudious toil, 
Shall foofche the frame by fell difeafe oppreft, 
Bid brightening Health diffufe her wonted fmile, 
And give to friendfhip's vow the kindred breaJL 

Yon few — as yet unknown to ftrife ■ 

Whom Tully's liberal fpirit charms, 
— Foes to the filent paths of life, 
The thirft of elocution warms : 
Theirs be the tafk, to mark with awe 
The mighty edifice of law : 
And having caught the general view, 
Trace ev'ry varied chamber through : 
And may they fcorn the vulgar tribe, 
Who ferife for formal gingle {light: 
Superior to the guilty tribe, 

With learning grave, with wit polite: 
By Blackflone's bright example taught, 
Watch o'er each private right with generous fear; 
And with th' unconquer'd love of freedom fraught, 
Preferve thofe claims to etery Briton dear. 

Yet 



Chap.X. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 233 

Yet nobler paths for fome remain, — 
— By hallow'd footfteps only trod ; 

»And thefe (hall feek the facred fane, 
And give their ftudious hours to God. 
Hark ! while th' infpiring diction flows, 
Each breait with holy rapture glows; 
See trembling Guilt betrays his fears, 
See fad Repentance pours her tears, 
Till from her Harry manfion charm'd, 
The fmiling cherub Peace defcends, 
And o'er the foul with doubts alarm'd, 
Her guardian wings unfeen extends. 
Whilft thofe, attentive to the caufe 
Oi Britain, lhall to her devote their days ; 
in the full fenate meet unbought applaufe, 

And place their glory in their country's praife, 

Exulting Science now difdains 

The tics of Cultom's proud control, 
And breaks the rude and barbarous chains 

That fetter'd down the freeborn foul ; 
Extinguifh'd now her vengeful fires. 
Lo ! Superfiition How retires ; 
Or, from fome cloifter's mouldering fane, 
Pours out her mutter' d curfe in vain : 
While the warm breaft, with generous joy, 

Embraces all of human kind ; 
And fcorns each mean and narrower tife. 

To climate and to feci confin'd. 
Deaf to the bigot's frantic voice, 
Conducls each dubious ftep by Reafon's plan. 

To her unerring rule conforms its choice, 
Nor tamely yields the facred rights of man. 

O ye ! whom Science chofe to guide 

Her unpolluted flream along, 
Adorn with flowers its cultur'd fide, 

And to its ta.fte allure the young: 

Ofay, 









234 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

O fay, what language can reveal 
Th' exalted pleafures you mult feel, 
When, nYd by you, the youthful breaft 
Difdains to court inglorious reft. 
And to the world's admiring gaze, 

(Each precept into a&ion brought) 
In full reality difplays 

The liberal maxims you have taught ! 
A tranfport this, fuperior far 
To all the blifs th' exulting conqueror feels, 
When crowds triumphant hail him from the war, 
And conquer' d nations crouch beneath his wheels. 

Oft as thofe favoured haunts among 

Your youthful bard delighted roves 
Attentive to the nobler fong 

That breathes alang the lift'ning groves ; 
He feems to tread on claflic ground ; 
A facred influence breathes around, 
And whilft. he feels its awe divine, 
He fondly grafps the vaft defign — 
—But ah ! far weightier cares renew 

Their claims, and check the rifing ftrain, 
Again, he joins Life's general crew, 

The dull, the giddy, and the vain; 
Thus echoing through the rural bow'rs, 
Th' imprifon'd fongfter hears each rival lay ; 
Whilft cold reftraint repreffes all his pow'rs, 

And unapplauded flies his joylefs day. R. 

CHAP. XI. 

HYMN TO CHEERFULNESS. 

How thick the (hades of evening clofe ! 
How pate the iky with weight of mows! 
Hafte, light the tapers, urge the fire, 
And bid the joylefs day retire, 

Alasl 



Ciiap.XI. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 235 

Alas ! in vain I try within 
To brighten the dejected fcene, 
While rouz'd by grief thefe iiery pains 
Tear the frail texture of my veins: 
While Winter's voice, that ftorms around, 
And yon deep death-bell's groaning found 
Renew my mind's oppreflive gloom, 
Till darting horrour makes the room. 

Is there in nature no kind power 
To foothe affliction's lonely hour ? 
To blunt the edge of dire difeafe, 
And teach thefe wint'ry (hades to pleafe ?' 
Come, Cheerfulnefs, triumphant fair ! 
Shine through the hovering cloud of care : 
fweet of language, mild of mien,\ 
O virtue's friend, and pleafure's queen. 
Afluage the flames that burn my breaft, 
Compofe my jarring thoughts to reil; 
And while thy gracious gifts I feel, 
My fong fhall all thy praife reveal. 

As once ('twas in Aurora's reign) 
The vernal powers renew'd their train, 
It happen'd that immortal Love 
Was ranging through the fpheres above, 
And downward hither caft his eye, 
The year's returning pomp to fpy : 
He faw the radiant god of day 
Waft in his car the rofy May ; 
The fragrant Airs and genial Hours 
Were fhedding round him dews and flower: , 
Before his wheels Aurora pafs'd, 
And Hefper's golden-lamp was laft. 
But, fairelt of the blooming throng. 
When Health majeftic mov'd along, 
Delighted to furvey below 
The joys which from her prefence flow, 

Whik 



23(5 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

While earth enlivened hears her voice, 
And fwains, and flocks, and fields rejoice ; 
Then mighty Lovejier charms confefVd, 
-And foon his vows inclih'd her bread, 
And, known from that aufjykiio'iis morn, 

. The pleaiing Gheerfulneis was born. 

Thou, Cheerfulneis! by Heaven defign'd 
To fway the movements of the mind, 
Whatever fretful path on fpring«, 
Whatever wayward fortune brings, 
To difarrange the power within, 
And llrain the mufieal machine; 
Thou Goddefs, thy attempering hand 
Doth each difcordant ftring command, 
Re-fines the foft, and fw^lls the ftrong ; 
And, joining nature's general fong, 
Through many a varying tone unfolds 
The harmony of human- fouls. 

Fair guardian of domeftic life, 
Kind hammer of homebred ftrife, 
Nor fullen lip, nor taunting eye 
Deforms the fcene where thou art by : 
No fickening hufband damns the hour 
Which bound his joys to female power : 
No pining mother weeps the cares 

. Which parents wafte on thanklefs heirs : 
Th' officious daughters pleas'd attend ; 
The brother adds the name of friend ; 
By thee with flowers their board is crown'd, 
With fongs from thee their walks refouad ; 
And morn with welcome luftre mines, 
And evening unperceiv'd declines. 

Is there a youth, whofe anxious heart 
Labours with love's unpitied fmart? 
Though now he ftray by rills and bowers, 
And weeping wafte the lonely hours, 
9 



Chap. XI. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 2$7 

Or, if the nymph her audience deign, 
Debafe the ftory of his pain 
With flaviih looks, difcolour'd eyes, 
And accents faltering into fighs ; 
Yet thou, aufpicious power ! with eafe 
Can'ft yield him happier arts to pleafe 
Inform his mien with manlier charms, 
Iuftruct his tongue with nobler arms, 
With more commanding paflion move, 
And teach the dignity of love. 

Friend to the Mufe and all her train, 
For thee I court the Mufe again; 
The Mufe for thee may well exert 
Her pomp,, her charms, her fondeft art, 
Who owes to thee that pieafing fway 
Which earth and peopled Heaven obey. 
Let Melancholy's plaintive tongue 
Repeat what later bards have fung ; 
But thine was Homer's ancient might, 
And thine victorious Pindar's flight : 
Thy hand each Eefbi an wreath attir'd ; 
Thy lip Sicilian reeds infpir'd ; 
Thy fpirit lent the glad perfume 
Whence yet the flowers' of Teos bloom ; 
Whence yet from Tibur's Sabine vale 
Delicious blows th' enlivening gale, 
While Horace calls thy fportive choir, 
Heroes and nymphs, around his lyre. 

But fee where yonder. penflve fage 
(A prey perhaps to fortune's rage ; 
Perhaps by tender griefs opprefs'd, 
Or glooms congenial to his breaft) 
Retires, in defert icenes to dwell, 
And bids the joylefs world farewell. 
Alone he treads th' autumnal fhade ? 
Alone, beneath the mountain laid, 

He 



23S DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

lie fees the nightly damp afcend, 
And gathering ftorms aloft impend ; 
He hears the neighbouring furges roll, 
And raging thunders (hake the pole : 
Then, (Iruck by every object round, 
And ftunn'd by every horrid found, 
He aiks a clew for Nature's ways ; 
But evil haunts him through the maze : 
He fees ten thoufand demons rife 
To wield the empire of the ikies, 
And Chance and Fate aftume the rod, 
And malice blot the throne of God. 
— O thou ! whofe pleafing power I ling, 
Thy lenient influence hither bring ; 
Compofe the ftorm, difpel the gloom, 
Till nature wear her wonted bloom, 
Till fields and fluides their fweets exhale, 
And Mulic fwell each opening gale: 
Then o'er his breaft thy foftnefs pour, 
And let him learn the timely hour 
To trace the world's benignant laws, 
And judge of that preliding Caufe 
Who founds on difcord Beauty's reign, 
Converts to pleafure every pain, 
Subdues each hoftile form to reft, 
And bids the univerie be blefs'd. 

O thou ! whofe pleafing power I fmg, 
If right I touch the votive ftring, 
If equal praife I yield thy name, 
Still govern thou thy poet's flame, 
Still with the Mufe my bofom mare; 
And foothe to peace intruding Care. 
But moit. exert thy pleafing power 
On Friendlhip's confecrated hour; 
And while my Sophron points the road » 
To godlike WifdonYs calm abode, ' 



Chap. XII. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 239 
Or, warm in Freedom's ancient caufe, 
Traceth the fource of Albion's laws, 
Add thou o'er all the generous toil 
The light of thy unclouded fmile. 
But, if by Fortune's itubborn fway 
From him and Friendfhip torn away, 
I court the Mufe's healing fpell 
For griefs that full with- abfence dwell, 
Do thou conduct my fancy's dreams 
To fuch indulgent, placid themes, 
As jutt the ftruggling breaft may cheer, 
And jult fufpend the ftartir.g tear, 
Yet leave that facred fenfe of wo, 
Which none but friends and lovers know. 

Akenside. 
i 

C H A P. XII. 

ODE TO INDEPENDENCE. 

Strophe. 

Thy fpirit, Independence ! let me ihare; 

Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye, 

Thy fteps I follow with my bofom bare, 

Nor heed the itorm that howls along the iky. 

Deep in the -frozen regions of the north, 

A goddefs violated brought thee forth, 

Immortal Liberty ! whofe look fublime 

Hath bleach'd the tyrant's check in every varying clime* 

What time the iron-hearted Gaul, 

With frantic Superirition for his guide, 

Ann'd with the dagger and the pall, 

The fons of Woden to the field defied : 

The ruthlefs hag, by Wefer's Mood, 

In Heaven's name urg'd the infernal blow; 

And red the ftream began to flow : 

The vanquilh'd were baptiz'd with blood \ 

Antistrophe. 



240 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

AlvTISTROrilE. 

The Saxon prince, in horror fled 

From altars ftain'd with human gore, 

And Eiberty his routed legions led, 

In fafety, to the bleak Norwegian fhore: 

There, in a cave, afleep fhe la\ r , 

Lull'd by the hoarfe^refounding main, 

When a bold favage pafs'd that way, 

Impelled by Delnny, his name Difdain. 

Of ample front the portly chief appear'd ; 

The hunted -bear fupply'd a fliaggy veft ; 

The drifted fnow hung on his yellow beard, 

And his broad moulders brav'd the furious blafr. 

He ftopp'd; he gaz'dj his bofom glow'd, 

And deeply felt th' impreflion of her charms : 

He feiz'd th' advantage Fate allowed, 

And ftraight comprefs'd her in his vigorous arms, 



Strophe. 

The curlier. frre?.m'd ; the Tritons blew 

Their fhelis, to celebrate the ravim'd rite; 

Old Time exulted as he flew, 

And Independence faw trm light; 

The light he faw in Albion's happy plains, 

Where, under cover of a flowering thorn, 

While Philomel renew'd her warbled ftrains, 

The aufpicious fruit of ftol'n embrace was born- 

The mountain Dryads feiz'd, with joy, 

The imiling infant to their charge confign'd ; 

The Doric ]\!ufe tarefs'd the favourite boy; 

The hermit Vpfdom ftor'd his opening mind. 

As rolling years matur'd his age, 

He flouriuYd bold and finewy as his fire; 

While the mild pafiions in his breaft afluage 

The fiercer riames of his maternal fire. 






AxTISTBOPIifc. 






Chap. XII. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 241- 

Antistrophe. 

Accompli uYd thus, he wing'd his way, 

And zealous rov'd from pole to pole, 

The rolls of right eternal to difplay, 

And warm with patriot thoughts the afpiring foul. 

On defert ifles 'twas he that rais'd 

Thofe fpires that gild the Adriatic wave, 

Where Tyranny beheld, amaz'd, 

Fair Freedom's temple, where he mark'd her grave* 

He fteel'd the blunt Batavian's arms, 

To burft the Iberian's double chains 

And cities rear'd, and planted farms, 

Won from the fk-irts of Neptune's wide domaip 4 . 

He, with the generous nifties, fate 

On Uri's rocks in clofe divan.; 

And wing'd that arrow fure as fate, 

Which afcertain'd the facred rights of man. 



Arabia's fcorching fands he crofs'd, 

Where blafted Nature pants fupine, 

Conductor of her tribes aduft, 

To Freedom's adamantine fhrine ; 

And many a Tartar hord forlorn, aghaft, 

He fnatch'd from under fell Gppreflion's wing; 

And taught, arnidft the dreary wafte, 

The all-cheering hymns of liberty to iing. 

He Virtue finds, like precious ore, 

Diffus'd through every bafer mould, 

Even now he ftands on Calvi's rocky more, 

And turns the drofs of Corfica to gold. 

He, guardian genius, taught my youth 

Pomp's tinfel livery to defpife : 

My lips, by him chaftis'd to truth. 

Ne'er paid that homage which the heart deaieB, 



M Antistrofhe, 



242 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book V 

Antistp.opiie. 
Thofe fculptur'd halls my feet /hall never -tread, 
Where varnifli'd Vice and Vanity combin'd, 
To dazzle and feduce, their. banners fpread, 
And forge vile ftiackles for the freeborn rainjd. 
Where Infolenee his wrinkled front uproars, 
And all the flowers of fpurious Fancy blow j 
And Title his ill-woven chaplet wears, 
Full often wreath'd around the miicrcant's brow : 
Where ever-dimpling Falfehood, pert and vain, 
Prefents her cup of ftale Profeffion's froth ; 
And pale Difeafe, with all his bloated train, 
Torments the fous of Gluttony and Sloth. 

Strophe. 

In Fortune's car behold that minion ride, 
With either India's glittering fpoils opprefs'd : 
So moves the fumptcr-mule, in harnefs'd pride. 
That bears the treaiure which he cannot tafte. 
For him let venal barus difgrace the bay, 
And hireling minftrels wake the tinkling tiring; 
Her fenfual fnares let fai'thlefs "Pleafure lay, 
And ail her gingling bells fan tail ic Folly ring;' 
Difquiet, Doubt, and Dread (hall intervene ; 
And Nature, ftill to all her feelings juft, 
In vengeance hang a dump on every fcenc, 
Shook from the baleful pinions of Difgufl. 

AlN'TI STROPHE. 

Nature I'll court in her fequefter'd haunts, 

By mountain, meadow. Oreamlet, grove, or cell, 

Where the pois'd lark his evening ditty ch.tunts, 

And Health* and Peace, and Contemplation dwell. 

There Study fhali with Solt.de r cline, 

And : FHen IJhip pledge me to h s f How fwains; 

And Tbi] and 3 

1 he fli ' te: c id U- ;: ; fuftairis"; 

And 



p. Xir. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 24S 
:. fearl'efs Poverty (hall guard the door ; 
And Taile, unfpoil'd, the frugal table fpread; 
And Induftry iupply the humble ftore ; 
And Sleep, unbrib'd, his dews refrefhmg fhed; 
White-mantled Innocence, ethereal fprite, 
Shall chafe far .off the goblins of the night ; 
And Independence o'er the" day prefide, 
-Propitious power! my patron and my pride. 

Smollet. 






C II A P. XIII. 
ODE TO MIRTH. 



Parent of joy! heart-eaung Mirth ! 

Whether of Venus or Aurora. bora, 
Yet Goddefs fure of heavenly birth I 
Vitit benign a fon of Grief forlorn. 
Thy glittering colours gay, 
Around him, Mirth', di-play; 
And o'er his raptur'd feme 
Diffufe thy living influence: 
So mall each hill in purer green afray'd, 
And flower adorn'd in new-born beauty glow ; 

The grove fhall fmocth the horrours of the lliade, 
And ftreams and murmurs (hall forget to flow. 
Shine, Goddefs, mine with unremitted ray. 
And gild (a fecond fun) with brighter beam our day*, 

Labour with thee forgets his. pain, 
And aged Poverty can fmile with thee; 
If thou be nigh, Grief's hate is vain. 
And weak th' uplifted arm of tyranny. 
The morning opes on high 
His univerful.eye; 
And on the world doth pour 
His glories in a golden ihower, 

m 2 Lo ! 



J244 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 
Lo ! Darknefs trembling 'fore the hofcile ray 
-Shrinks to the cavern deep and wood forlorn : 

The brood obfcene, that own her gloomy fway, 
Troop in her rear, and fly th' approach of morn. 
Pale uYivering ghofts, that dread th* all-cheering light, 
Quick, as the lightning's flafti, glide to fepulchral night* 

'But whence the gladdening beam 
"That pours his purple Itream 

O'er the long profpect vf'uh ? 
'Tis Mirth. I fee her fit 
In majefty of light, 

With Laughter at her fide. 
Bright-eyed Fancy hovering near 
Wide waves her glancing wing in air; 
And young Wit flings his pointed dart, 
^That guiltlefs flrikes the willing heart. 
Fear not now Affliction's power, 
Fear not now wild Paflion's rage, 
Nor fear ye ought in evil hour, 
Save the tardy hand of Age. 
Kow Mirth hath heard the fuppliant Poet's prayer; 
£Jo cloud that rides the blaft mail vex the troubled air. 

Smollet. 

CHAP. XIV. 

THOUGHT IN A GARDEN. 

{Delightful manficn! bled retreat! 
Where all is filent, all is fweet ! 
Here Contemplation prunes her wings, 
The raptur'd Mufe more tuneful fings, 
While May leads on the cheerful hours, 
And opens a new world of flov/rs. 
<?ay Plea fu re here all dreffes wears, 
And in a thoufand fhapes appears. 
Farmed by Fancy, how me roves 
Through airy walks, and mufeful groves; 

Springs 



I 



Chap. XIV. DESCRIPTIVE FIECE& 245 

Springs' in each plant and bloiTom'd tree, 
And charms in-'all I hear and fee ! 
In this Elytium while I ltray, 
And Nature's faireft face furvey, 
Earth feems new born, and Life more bright ; 
Time fteals away, and fmooths his flight; 
And Thought -'s bewildered in delight. 
Where are the crowds I law of late? 
What are thoi'e tales of Europe's fate T 
Of Anjou, and the Spanifh crown ; 
And leagues to pull ufurpers down? 
Of marching armies^ diitant wars; 
Of factions, and domeftic jars ?• 
Sure thefe are taft iugh-t^ dreams, no raoi-ej" 
Or fame ramanee, read lately o'er; 
Like Horner's antique tale of Troy, 
And pow'rs con fed 'rate to deftroy 
Priam's proud houfe, the Dardan name ? 
With him that itole the ravifh'd dame, 
And, to poflefs another's right, 
Durit the whole world to arms excite. 
Come, gentle Sleep, my eyelids clofe, 
Thefe dull impi#tfions help me lofe : 
Let Fancy take he* wing, and find 
Some better dream to footh my mind ; ; 
Or waking, let me learn to live; 
The profpeci will inflruclion give. 
For fee, where beauteous Thames does glide 
Serene, but with a fruitful tide ; 
Free from extremes of ebb and flow, 
Not fwell'd too high, nor funk too low;. 
Such let my life's fmooth current be, 
Till, from time's narrow fhore fet free, ; 
. It mingle with th' eternal fea ; 

And there enlarg'd, (hall be no more 
That trifling thing it was-before. 

Hughes, 
m 3 



U6 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book 

C II A P. XV. - 
HYMN TO CYNTHIA. 

Queen, and hufitrefs, chafle, and fair. 
Nov/ the Sun is laid to fleep; 
Seated' in thy filver chair, 
State in wonted manner keep : 

Hefperus intreats thy light, 

Goddefs, excellently bright. 

Earth, let not thy envious fhade 
Dare itfelf to interpofe ; 
Cynthia's Ihining orb was made 
Heaven to cheer, when day did clofc; 

Blefs us then with wilhed fight, 

Goddefs, excellently bright. 

Lay thy bow of pearl apart, 
And thy cryftal- ihining quiver ; 
Give unto the flying hart 
Space to breathe, how fhort foever; 

Thou that male' ft a. day of night, 

Goddefs^ excellently bright. 



B. Jons on. 



CHAP. XVI. 

TH E C'U CKO O. 

Hail, beauteous ftranger of the wood, 

Attendant on the ipYmg ! 
Now heaven repairs thy rural feat, 

And woods thy welcome ftng. 

Soon as the claify decks the green, 

Thy certain voice we hear: 
Haft thou a ft at to guide thy path. 

Or mark the -rollinsf vear r 



Deliil 



Chap. XVI. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES, £4$) 
Delightful vifitant.'! with thee 

I hail the time of flowers, 
When heav'n is fill'd with mufic fweet 
Of birds among the bowers. 

The fchoolboy, wand' ring in the wood 

To pull the flowers, fo gay, 
Starts, thy curious voice to hear, 

And imitates thy lay. 

Soon as the pea puts on the bloom,. . 

Thou fly'ft thy vocal-vale, 
An annual guefly in other lands* 

Another fpring to hail. 

Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever ^reeu K , 

Thy iky is ever clear, 
Thou halt no farrow in thy long, 
. No winter in thy year ! 

O, could i fly, I'd fly with thee : 

We'd make, with focial wing, 
Our annual vifit o'er the globe, 

Companions of the fpring. 



C H A P. XVII. 
THE WINTER'S WALK. 

Behold, my fair, where'er we rove, . 

What dreary profpecls round us rife; - 
The naked hill, the leaflefs grove, 

The hoary ground, the frowning Ikies! 

Nor only through the wafted plain, 
Stern Winter, is thy force confefs'd; 

Still wider fpreads thy horrid reign, 
I feel thy power ufurp my breail. 

m 4t Enlivening 



248 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Booh- VI. 

Enlivening Hope and fond Defire 
Refign the heart to Spleen and Care; 

Scarce frighted Love maintains his fire, 
And rapture faddens to defpair. 

In groundlefe hope, and caufelefs fear, 

Unhappy man ! behold thy doom, 
Still changing with the changeful year, 

The fl-ave of funmine and of gloom. 

Tir'd with vain joys, and falfe alarms, 

With mental and corporeal ftrife;- 
Snatch me, my Stella, to thy arms, 

And fcreen me from the ills of life. 

Dr. Johnson. 

CHAP. XVIII. 

THE HERM.IT. 

At the clofe of the day, when the hamlet is ftill, 
And mortals the fweets of forgetfulnefs prove, 
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill, 
And nought but the nightingale's fong in the grove: 
? Twas then by the cave of a mountain, reclin'd, 
A Hermit his nightly complaint thus began ; 
Though mournful his voice, his heart wa^ refign'd, 
lie thought as a Sage, but he felt as a Man. 

" Ah,, why thus abandon' d to darknefs and wo, 
Why thus, lonely Philomel, flows thy fad ftraiu? 
For Spring (hall return, and, a lover beftow, 
And thy bofom no trace of misfortune retain. 
Yet, if pity inipire thee, ah ceafe hot thy lay, 
Mourn, fweeteit oomplainer, Man calls thee to mourn : 
O footh( hi .. whofi pl.eafures, like thine, pais away- 
Full quickly they h :uc- — out they never return. 

li Nc remote, on the verge of the iky, 

naoon liah-extinguiih'd. her crefcent difplays: 

But 



C'kap.XVIIL DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 249 

But lately I mark'd, when majeitic on high 
She fhone, and the planets were loft in her blaze. 
Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladnefs purfue v 
The path that conducts thee to fpleridohr again. — - 
But Man's faded glory no change mail renew, 
Ah fool! to exult in a glory fo vain ! 

* 'Tis night, and the landfcape is lovely ro more ; 
I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; 
For morn -is approaching, your charms to reftore, 
Perfum'd with frefh fragrance, and glittering with dew. 
Nor yet for the ravage of Winter I mourn; 
Kind Nature the embryo blo'fibm will lave : — 
But when fhall Spring vifit tbe mouldering urn ! 
O, when fhall it dawn on the night of the grave I" 

B-E4TTIE. 

CHAP. XIX. 

THE PRAISE OF PHILOSOPHY. 

But now let other themes our care engage : 
For lo, with modeft vet majeitic grace, 
To curb Imagination's lawlefs rage, 
And from within the cherifh'd heart to brace,, 
Philofophy appears. The gloomy race 
By Indolence and moping Fancy bred, 
Fear, Difcontent, Solicitude, give place, 
And Hope and Courage brighten in their fiea;!,' 
While on the kindling foul her vital beams are ihed,.' 

Then waken from long lethargy to life . 
The feeds of h .ppineis, and powers of .'iJbbjuglit -j 
Then jarring appetites forego their fbile* 
A 'ft rife by ignorance to mack,-: v;\ >ug* iL 
Pleafure by lavage man is deaiiy bought 
With fell revenge, luft that defies eooj 
With gluttony and death. The mind uiit. 
Is a dark wafte, where fiends an 
As Phoebus to the world, is Science to the foul. 

Mo And 



250 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VJ. 
And Reafon now through Number, Time, and Space. 
Darts the keen luftre of her ferious e\-c, 
And learns, from "facta compared, the laws to trace, 
Whofe long progretfion leads to Deity. 
flan mortal ftrength prcfuine to foar fo high! 
Can mortal fight, fo oft bedimm'd with tears, 
Such glory bear!— for lo, the ihadows fly 
From Nature's face ; Confuiion difappears, 

And order charms the eyes, and harmony the ears. 

In the deep windings of the grove, no more 
The hag obfcene and grifly phantom dwell ; 
*Nor in the fall of mountain-ftream, or roar 
Of winds, is heard the angry fpirit's yell ; 
No wizard mutters the tremendous fpell, 
Nor finks convulfive in prophetic fwoon ; 
Nor bids the noile of drums and trumpets fwell, 
To eafe of fancied pangs the labouring moon, 
Or chafe the (hade that blots the blazing orb of noon. 

Many a long-lingering year, in lonely ifle, 
Stunn'd with th' eternal turbulence of waves, 
Lo, with dim eyes, that never learn'd to fmile, 
And trembling hands, the famifh'd native craves 
Of Heav'n his wretched fare : fhivering in caves, 
Or fcoich'd on rocks, he pines from day to day: 
But Science gives the word; and lo, he braves 
The ftirge and tempelt, lighted by her ray, 
And to a happier land wafts merrily away. 

And even where Nature loads the teeming plains 
With the full pomp of vegetable ftore, 
Her bounty unimprov'd is deadly banfe : 
Dark woods, and rankling wilds, from fliore to ftiore, 
' Stretch their enormous gloom; which to explore 
Even Fancy trembles in her fprightlietl mood ; 
For there, each eye-ball gleams with luft of gore, 
Nellies each murderous and each monftrous brood, 
Plague lurks in every {hade, and iteams from every flood. 
" x& 'Twas 



Chap. XIX. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 251 
Twas from Philofophy man learn'd to tame 
The foil by plenty to intemperance fed. 
To, from the echoing axe, and thundering flame, 
Poifon and Plague and yelling Rage are fled. 
The waters, burfting from their flimy bed, 
Bring health and melody to every vale: 
And from the breezy main, and mountain's head, 
Ceres and Flora to the funny dale, 

To fan their glowing charms, invite .the fluttering galew • 

What dire necelTities on every hand 
Our art, our ftrength, our fortitude require! 
Of foes inteftine what a numerous band 
Agaiftft this little throb of life confpire ! 
Yet Science can elude their fatal ire 
A while,' and turn afide death's levell d dart, 
Sooth the fharp pang, allay the fever's fire, 
And brace the nerves once more, and cheer the heart, 
And yet a few foft nights and balmy days impart. 

Nor lefsto regulate man's moral frame 
Science exerts her all -co mpo ling f way. 
Flutters .thy breait with fear, or pants for fame, 
Or pines, to Indolence and Spleen a prey, 
Or Avarice, a fiend more fierce than they ? 
Flee to the fhade of Academus' Grove; 
Where Cares moleft not, Difcord melts away 
In harmony, and the pure paffions prove 
Ilowfweet the words of Truth breath'd from the lips of Love. 

What cannot Art and Induflry perform, 
When Science plans the progrefs of their toil ! '■ 
They fmile at penury, difeafe, and ftorm; 
And oceans from their mighty mounds recoil. 
When tyrants fcourge, or demagogues embroil '■' 
A land, or when the rabble's headlong rage, 
Order transforms to anarchy and fpoil, 
Deep-vers'd in man, the philofophic Sage • 
Prepares with lenient hand their phrenzy to afluace. . 

m6 ° >Ti& 



2S2 D E'S CUTP TITE' P TE CE S. Book VI,. 
•Tis he alone, whofe comprehenfive mind, 
From fituation, temper, foil, and clime 
Explor'd, a nation's various powers can bind- 
And various orders, in one form fublime 
Of polity, that rnidffc the wrecks of time, 
Secure mall lift its head on high, nor. fear 
Th' aflault of foreign or domeftic crime, 
While public Faith, and public Love fincere,. 

And Industry and Law .maintain- their fway fevere. 

♦ ' BeATT'IS-.. 



GHAP. XX. 
HYMN TO LI G II T.. 

FiRS*-uoiiN of Chaos, who fo fair didft come 
From the old. Negro's darkfome womb ! 
Which when it faw the lovely child, 

The melancholy mafs put on. kind looks, and f mil' d. „ 

Tiiou tide of glory, which no refldoil know, 

But ever ebb, and ever flow I 

Thou golden fhower of a true Jove ! 
Who does in thee defeend, and lieav'n to earth make love ! 

Hail, aftive Nature's watchful life and health X 
Her joy, her ornament, . and wealth. ! 
Hail to thy liufband Heat, and thee ! 

Thou the world's beauteous bride, the lutty .bridegroom he? 

Say, from what golden quivers of the iky 

Bo all thy winged arrows fly;. 

Swiftnefs and Power by birth are thine: 
Fxom thy great fire they came, thy. fire the Word- Divines 

? Tis, I believe, . this archery to (how, 

That fo much coft in colours thou, 

And fkill in painting doft bellow 
^Jponthy ancient arms, the gaudy heavenly bow. 

^ Swift 



Chap.XX. DESCRIPTIVE. PIECES. 253 
Swift as light thoughts their empty career run, 

Thy race is finim'd when begun;; 

Let a poft-angel ftart with thee, 
And thou the goal of earth dial t reach as foon as he. 

Thou in the moon's bright chariot,, proud and gay, 
Doit thy bright wood of liars furvey; 
And all the year doth with thee bring 

A thoufand flow'ry lights,, thine own nocturnal fpring. 

Thou Scythian-like dbft round thy lands above 

Thy fun's gilt tent for ever move, 

And ftill as thou in pomp doit go.. 
The mining pageants of the -world attend thy fhow. 

Nor amidft all thefe triumphs doll thou fcorn 
The humble glow-worms to adorn, 
* And with thofe living fpangles gild 
(O greatnefs w^ithcat pride!) the blufhes of the field; 

Night, and her ugly fubje&s-, thou deft fright, 

And Sleep, the lazy owl of Night; 

Afham'd and fearful to appear, - 
They fkreen their horrid fhapes, with the black 'hemi-fphere. 

With 'em there haftes, and wildly takes th' alarm, 

Of painted dreams a b^ify fwarm ; 

At the firfl opening of thine eye, 
The various clutters break, the antic atoms fly. 

The guilty ferpents, and obfcener beatts, . 
Creep conic"ious to their fecret refts i 
Nature to thee does reverence pay, . 

Ill omens and ill fights remove out of thy way. 

At thy appearance ; -Grief itfeif is faid 

To make his wings, and roufe his head ; 
And cloudy Care has often took 

A. gentle beamy imile^, rerle&ed from thy look. 

r At 



254 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

At thy appearance, Fear itfelf grows bold; 

Thy funfhine melts away his cold; 

Encourag'd at the fight_of thee, 
To the cheek colour comes, and firmnefs to the knee. . 

Even Luft, the matter of a harden'd face, 

Blufhes if thou be' ft in the place; 

To darknefs' curtains he retires, 
In fympathifmg night he rolls his finoky fires, 

When, Goddefs, thou lift'ft up thy waken'd head, 

Out of the Morning's purple bed, 

Thy choir of birds about thee play, 
And all the joyful world falutes the rifmg day. 

The ghofts, and monfter fprites, that did prefumc 

A body's priv'lege to .a flu me, 

Vanim again invifibly, 
And bodies gain again their vifibility. 

All the world's bravery that delights our eyes 

Is but tli)' feveral liveries ; 

Thou the rich die on them beftow'ft, 
Thy nimble pencil paints this landfcape as thou go'ft. 

A crimfon garment in the rofe thou wear' ft ; 
A crown of ftuclded gold thou bear'ft ; 
The virgin lilies in their white, 
Are clad but with the lawn of almoft naked light. 

The violet, Spring's little infant, ftands, 
Girt in thy purple twaddling bands : 
On the fair tulip thou doft dote ; 

Thou cloth' ft it in a gay and particolour'd coat. 

With flame condens'd, thou doft the jewels fix, 

And folid colours in it mix : 

Flora 4ierfelf envies to fee 
Flowers fairer than her own, and durable as me. 

Ah 



Cjiap.XX. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 255 
Ah. Goddefs ! would thou could'ft thy hand withhold) 

And he lefs liberal to gold; 

Diclit thou leis value to it give, 
Of how much care, alas, might' ft thou poor man relieve ! 

To me the fun is more delightful far, 

And all fair days much fairer are : 

But few, ah wondrous few there be, 
Who do not gold prefer, O Goddefs, ev 'n to thee ! 

Through the foft ways of Heav'n, and air, and fea, 

Which open all their pores to thee, 

Like a clear river, thou doft glide, 
And with thy living ftream through the clofe channel Hide, 

But where firm bodies thy free courfe oppofe, 
Gently thy fource the land o'ei flows ; 
Takes there pofFeiftofl, and does make, 

Of colours mingled, light, a thick and minding lake* 

But the vait ocean of unbounded day 

In the empyrean Heav'n does it ay ; 

Thy rivers, lakes, and fprings below, 
From thence took fijrft their life, thither at laft muft flow, 

Cowley. 

C II A- P. XXI. 
INVOCATION TO L I G H T. 

Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heav'n nrilborn, 
Or of th' Eternal coeternal beam ! 
Slay I exprefs thee unblam'd ? Since God is light^ 
And never but in unapproached light 
Dwelt from eternity] dwelt then in thee, 
Bright effluence of bright eflence increate. 
Or hear'ft thou rather pure ethereal ftream, 
Vvhofe fountain who mall tell ? Before the fun, 
Before the heav'ns thou wert, and, at the voice 
Of- God, as with a mantle didft inveft 

The 



256 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VE 

The riling world of waters dark and deep, 

Won from the void and formlefs infinite. 

Thee I revifit now with bolder wing, , 

Efcap'd the Stygian pool, though' long detain'd : 

In that obfcure fojourn; while in my flight 

Through utter and through middle darknefs borne^ 

With other notes than to th' Orphean lyre,. 

I Tung of Chaos and eternal Night ; 

Taught by the heav'nly Mofe to venture down 

The dark defcent, and up to reafceud, 

Though hard and rare. Thee Trevifit fafe, 

And feel thy fov'reign vital lamp: but thou 

Revifit' ft not thefe eves r that roll in vain 

To find thy piercing ray; and find no dawn ; 

So thick a drop ferene hath quench-d their orbs, ' 

Gr dim iuffufion veiFd. Yet not the more 

Ceafe Ito wander, where the Mufes haunt 

Clear fpring, or fhady grove, or funny hill, 

Srnit with the love of facred fon'g : bufe chief ■ 

Thee, Sion, and the- flow *ry brooks beneath, 

That wafh.thy hallowed, feet, and warbling flow; 

Nightly I'vifjt; nor fometimes forget 

Thofe other two equall'd with me in fate, 

So were I equalled with them in renown,- • 

Blind Thamyris and- blind Moeonides; 

And.Tirefias, avid Phineus, prophets old : 

Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move 

Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird 

Sings darkling, and, in madiefl covert hid, 

Tunes her noclurnal note. Thus with the year., 

Seafons return : but not to me returns 

Day, or the fweet approach of ev'n or morn, 

Or fight of vernal bloom, or fummer's rofe, 

Or flocks or herds, or human face divine; 

But cloud inftead, and ever-during s dark 

Surrounds me; from the cheerful ways of men 

Cut off, and for the baok of knowledge fair 

j • . Prefsiited ' 



Ciiap.XXI. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. TS1 

Prefented with an univerfal blank 

Of Nature's works, to me expung'd and ras'dy 

And wifdom at one entrance quite (hut out. 

So much the rather thou, celeilial Light, 

Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers 

Irradiate, there plant eyes, all mill from thence 

Purge and difpene, that I may fee and tell 

-Of things invifible to mortal fight. 

MlLTON.- 

C IT A«P. XXII. 

T II E PAS ^ I ON S. 

When Music, heavenly maid, was young, 
While yet in early Greece me fung, 
The IVJions oft, to hear her fhell, 
Thronged around her magic cell, 
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,. 
Poueli beyond the Mufe's painting; 
By turns they felt the glowing mind, 
Diilurb'd, delighted, raised, refin'd, 
Till once, 'tis faid, when all were fir'd, 
Fill'd with fury, rapt, infpir'd, 
From the fcpporting myrtles round 
They matted her inftruments of found: 
And as th«y oft had beard apart 
Sweet lellcuDs of her forceful art, 
Each (for madnefs rul'd the hour) 
Would prove his own expreffive power. 

Firft Fear his hand, its fkill to try, 

Amid the chords bewilder' d laid, 
And back recoil'd, he knew not why, 

Ev'n at the found himfelf had made, 

Next Axger rufiYd, his eyes on fire, 

In lightnings own'd his fecret ftings, 
In oae rude clafh he ftruck the lyre/ 

And fwept with honied hand the firings. 

Wit* 



525$ . D E S C It IP T I V E P I E C E.S. Bo o * V*i 
With woeful meafures wan 1>es?ajr — 

Low fullen founds his- grief beguil'd. 
A folemn, grange, and mingled air, 

'Twas fed' by fits, by Harts 'twas wild. 

But thou, O Hope, with eyes fo fair,. 

What was thy delighted meafure ! 
Still it whifper'd promis'd pleafure, 

And bade the lovely fcenes at diiiance hail i 
Still would her touch the fcene prolong, 

And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, 

She oall'd on Echo ftill through all the fong; 

And where her fweeteft theme me chofe, 

A foft refponfive voice was heard at every clofe, 

And Hope enchanted fmii'd, and wav'd her golden hair:. 

And longer had ihe lung, — but, with a frown,. 

Revenge impatient rofej 
He threw his blood-ftain'd fword in thunder down, 
And with a withering look, 
The war-denouncing trumpet took, 
And blew a blaft fo loud and dread, 
Were ne'er prophetic founds fo full of wo;. 
And ever and anon he beat 
The doubling drum with furious heat : 
And though fometimes, each dreary pauie between, 
Dejecled Pity at his fide, 
Her foul-fubduing voice applied ; 
Yet ftill he kept his wild unalter'd mien, 
While each ftrain'd ball of fight feem'd burfting from his 
head. 

Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were nx'd, 

Sad proof of thy diftrefsful ftate, 
Of differing themes the veering fong was mix'd, 

And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate. 

With eyes uprais'd, as one infpir'd, 
Pale Melancholy fat retir'd, 
And from her wild fequefier'd feat, 
In notes by diftance made more fweet, 

Pour'ri 



Chap. XXII. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 259 

Pour'd through the mellow Horn her penfive foul : 
And daftiing loft from rocks around, 
Bubbling runnels join'd the found; 
^Through glades and glooms the mingled meafure ftolej 
Or o'er fome haunted iireams with fond delay ? 
Round a holy calm diffufing, 
Love of peace and lonely mufing, 
In hollow murmurs died away. 

Rut O, how alter'd was its fprightlier tone! 

When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthieft hue ? 

Her bow acrofs her moulder flung, 

Her bufkins gemm'd with morning dew, 
Blew an afpiring air, that dale and thicket rung, 

The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known, 

The oak-crown'd Sifters, and their chaite-eyed queen 

Satyrs and fylvan boys were feen, 

Peeping from forth their alleys green ; 

Brown Exercife rejoic'd to hear, 

And Sport leap'd up, and feiz'd his beechen fpear, 

Laft came Joy's ecftatic trial ; 
He, with viny crown advancing, 
Firit to the lively pipe his hand addrefs'd, 

Cut foon he faw the briik awakening viol, 

Whofe fweet entrancing voice he lov'd the bell. 

They would have thought, -who heard the {train, 
They faw in Tempo's vale her native maids, 
Amidit the feftal founding (hades, 

To fome unwearied minftrel dancing, 

While, as his flying fingers kifs'd theTtrings, 
Love fram'cLwith Mirth a gay fantaitic round, 
Loofe were her treffes feen, her zone unbound, 
And he, amidft his frolic play, 

As if he would the charming air repay, 

Shook thoufand odours from his dewy wings. ■ 

O Music ! fphere-defcended maid, 
Friend of pleafure, wifdom's aid, 

Why, 



2fr) DESCRIPTIVE- PIECES. Book Vf. 

Why, Goddefs, why to us denied? 

Lay'ft thou thy ancient lyre afide ? 

A^ in that lov'd Athenian bower, 

You learn'd an all-commanding power, 

Thy mimic foul, O nymph endear'd ! 

Can well recal what then it heard. 

Where is thy native fimple heart, 

Devote to virtue, fancy, art ? 

Arile, as in that elder time, 

Warm, energic, chafte, fublime! 

Thy wonders in that godlike age, 

Pill thy recording Sifter's page — 

'Tis faid, and I believe the tale, . 

Thy humbleft reed could more prevail, 

Had more of ftrength, diviner rage, 

Than all which charms this laggard age, 

Even all at once together. found, 

Cecilia's mingled world of found — 

O, bid our vain endeavours ceafe, 

Revive the juft defigns of Greece, 

Return in all thy iimple ftate ! 

Confirm the tales her fons relate! Colliks-, 

C PI A P. XXIII. 
PRAISE OF ENGLAND. 

Hail, noble Albion ! where no golden mines, 
No foft perfumes, nor oils, nor myrtle botv'rs, 
The vig'rous frame and lofty heart of man 
Enervate: round iv:h£*(e ftern cerulean brows 
White-wing' d fnow,.and cloud, and pearly rain, 
Frequent attend, with folemn majefty : 
Rich queen of mifts and vapours ! Thefe, thy fons 
"With their cool arms compre.fs ; and twift their nerves 
For deeds of excellence and high renown. 
Thus form'd, our Edwards, Henries, Churchill?, Blakes, 
-Our J.ockes, our Newtons, and our Miltons, role. 

See,. 



Gbap. XXIII. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 26t 

Sec, the fun gleams; the living paffures rife, 
After the nurture of the fallen fhow'r, 
How beautiful ! How blue th' ethereal vault, 
How verdurous the lawns, how clear the brooks ! 
Such noble warlike iteeds, fuch herds of kine, 
So (leek, fo vafl; fuch fpacious nocks of iheep, 
Like ilakes of gold illumining the green, 
What other Paradife adorn but thine, 
•Britannia ? Happy, if thy ions would know 
Their happinefs. To thefe thy naval ftreams, 
Thy frequent towns fuperb of bufy trade, 
And ports magniilc add, and ftately ihips 
Innumerous. Dyer. 

C II A P. XXIV. 

SHEEPSHEARING. 

Could I recal thofe notes, which once the Mufe 
Heard at a (hearing, near the woody fides 
Of blue-topp'd Wrekin. Yet the carols fweet, 
Through the deep maze of the memorial cell, 
Faintly remunnur, Firft arofe in long 
Hoarrheaded Damon, venerable fwain, 
The footheft fhepherd of the flow'ry vale. 
" This is no vulgar fcene : no palace roof 
Was e'er fo lofty, nor fo nobly rife 
Their polifh'd pillars, as thefe aged oaks, 
Which o'er our fleecy wealth and harmlefs fports 
Thus have expanded wide their fhelt'rmg arms, 

Thrice told a hundred fummers. Sweet content, 

Ye gentle Ihepherds, pillow us at night." 

" Yes, tuneful Damon, for our cares are mort, 

Hiring and falling with the cheerful day/' 

Colin replied, " and pleating wearinefs 

Soon our unaching heads to fleep inclines. 

Is it in cities fo ? where, poets tell, 

The cries of iorrow fad den all the ftreets, 

Ami 



262 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VL 

And the*difeafes of intemp'rate wealth. 
Alas, that any ills from wealth fhould rife ! ■ 

" May the fvveet nightingale on yonder fprav, 
May this clear flream, theie lawns, thole fnow-white lambs 
Which with a pretty innocence of look, 
Skip on the green, and race in little troops; 
Ma.y that great lamp, which finks behind the hills, 
And ftreams around variety of lights 
Recal them erring : this is Damon's wifn." 

" Huge Breaden's ftqny fummit once I climb'd 
After a kidling ; Damon, what a feene! 
What various views ■ imnurnber'd fpread beneath ! 
Woods, tow'rs, vales, caves, dells, cliffs, and torrent floods ; 
And here and there, between the fpiry rocks, 
The broad flat fea. Far nobler profpects thefe, 
Than gardens black with i'moke in duity towns, 
Where iienchy vapours often blot the fun : 
Yet flying from his quiet, thither crowds 
Each greedy wretch for tardy-riung wealth, 
Which comes too late ; that courts the tafte in vain', 
Or naufeates with diftempers. . Yes, ye rich, 
Still, ftifl be rich, if thusye fafhion life; 
And piping, carelefs, filly fhepherds we; 
We filly fhepherds, all intent to feed 
Our fnow3' flocks, and wind the fleeky fleece." 
" Deem not, howe'er, our occupation mean," 

Damon replied, " while the Supreme accounts 

Well of the faithful fhepherd, rank'd alike 

With king and prieft ; they alfo fhepherds are; 

For fo the All-feeing Jryles them, to remind 

Elated man, forgetful of his charge. 

" But hatte, begin the rites : fee purple Eve 

Stretches her fhadows : all ye nymphs and fwains, 

Hither affcmble. Pleas'd with honours due, 

Sabrina, guardian of the cryftal flood, 

Shall blefs our cares, "when (he by moonlight clear . 

Skims o'er the dales, and eyes our fleeping folds : 

O 



CiiAr.XXiV. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 26\3 

Or in hoar caves, around Plynlymmon's brow, 

Where precious miri'rals dart their purple. gleams, 

Among her ii iters fiie reclines ; the lov'd 

Vnga, profufe of graces : llyddol rough, 

Blithe Yftwith, and Cievedoc fvvift of foot; 

And mingles Various feeds of flow'rs and herbs 

In the divided torrents,- ere they' burft 

Through the dark clouds, and down the mountains roll 

Nor taint- worm fh all infect the yeaning herds, 

Nor pemiy-grafs, nor fpear wort's pois 'nous leaf/* 

lie faid : with light fantaftic toe, the nymphs 
Thither afiembled, thither ev'ry fwain ; 
And o'er the dimpled ftream a thoufand flow'rs, 
Pale lilies, rofe's, violets, and pinks, 
■Mix'd with the greens of burnet, mint, and thyme, 
And trefoil, fprinkled with their fportive arms. 

C II A P. XXV. 

RISE mi) DECLENSION of ROME, 

Peest thou yon fane?* Ev'n now mceiiant lime 
Sweeps her low mouhl'ring marbles to the dull; 
And Phoebus' temple, nodding with its woods, 
Threatens huge ruin o'er the fmall rotund. 
? Twas there beneath a fig-tree's umbrage broad, . 
Th' altoniih'd. f wains with rev'rend awe beheld 
Khee, O jQuirmus, and thy brother-twin,. 
Preffing the teat within a monger's grafp 
Sportive; while oft the gauiit and rugged wolf 
Tani'd her ftretch'd neck and form'cl year tender limbs; 
So taught of Jovv, ev'n the fell lavage fed 
Your {'acred infancies, year virtues, toils, 
The conquefts, glories of th' Aufonian {kite, 
Wrapp'd in their iecret feeds. Each kindred ibul, 
Robuit and frout, ye grapple io your hearts, 

And 



*The Temple of Romulus and Remus, wider mount Pafatim 



2fo DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 
And little Rome appears. Her cots arife, 
Green twigs of ofier weave the flender walls, 
Green ruflies fpreacl the roofs ; and here and there 
Opens beneath the rock the. gloomy cave. 
Elate with joy, Etrufcan Tiber views 
Her fpreading fcenes enamelling his waves, 
Her huts and hollow dells, and flocks and herds, 
And gathering fwains; and rolls his yellow car 
To Neptune's court with mere majeftic train. , 
Her fpeedy growth alarm' d the ftates around, 
Jealous, yet foon by wond'rous virtue won, 
They fink into her bofom. From the plough 
Rofe her chelators ; fought, o'ercame, return'd, 
Yes, to the plough return'd, and hail'd their peers; 
For then no private pomp, no houfehold ftate, 
The public only fwell'd the gen'rous breaft. 
Who has not heard the Fabian heroes fung ? 
Dentatus' fears, or Mutius' flaming hand ? 
How Manlius fav'd the Capitol? the choice • 
Of fteady Rcgulus ? As yet they Hood, 
Simple of life-; as yet feducing wealth 
Was unexplor'd, and fliame of poverty 
Yet unimagin'd — Shine not all the fields 
"With various fruitage ? Murmur not the brooks 
Along the ftow'ry valleys ? They, content, 
Feafted at Nature's hand, indelicate," 
Blithe, in their eafy tafte ; and only fought 
To know, their duties ; that their only ft rife, 
Their gen'rous ftrife, and greatly to perform. 
They through all fhapes of peril and of pain, 
intent on honour, dar'd in 'thickeft- death 
To fnatch the glorious deed. Nor Trebia quell'd, 
Nor Thrafymene, nor Cannae's bloody field, 
Their dauntlefs courage; itorming Hannibal 
In vain the thunder of the battle roll'd, 
The thunder of the battle they return'd 
Back on his Punic fhores ; 'till Carthage fell, 

And 



Chap. XXV. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES, js% 

And danger fled afar. The city gleam'd 

With precious fpoik: alas, profperity ! 

A!i, baneful ftate ! Yet cbb'd not all their ftrength 

In foft luxurious pleafures ; proud defire 

Of boundlefs fway, and fev'rim thirft of gold, 

Rous'd them again to battle. Beauteous Greece 

Torn from her joys, in vain with languid arm," 

Half rais'd her rufty fhield ; nor could avail 

The ftvord of Dacia, nor the Parthian dart; 

Nor yet the car of that fam'd Britifh chief, 

Which feven brave years beneath the doubtful wing 

Of vict'ry, dreadful roll'd its grinding wheels 

Over the bloody war *. the Roman arms 

Triumph 'd, till Fame was (Trent of their foes. 

And now the world unrivall'd they enjoy'd 
In proud fecurity : the crefted helm, 
The plated greaves and corfelet hung unbrae'd ? 
Nor clauk'd their arms, the fpear and founding ihield, 
But on the glitt'ring trophy to the wind. 

Diflolv'd in eafe and foft delights they lie^ 
Till ev'ry fun annoys, and ev'ry wind 
Has chilling force, and ev*ry rain offends : 
For now the frame no more is girt with firength 
Mafculine, nor in luflinefs of heart 
Laughs at the winter ftorm, and fummer beam, 
Superior to their rage : enfeebling vice 
Withers each nerve, and opens ev'ry pore 
To painful feeling : flow'ry bow'rs they (eek 
(As aether prompts, as die fick ienfe approves^ 
Or cool Nymphean grots ; or tepid baths 
{Taught by the foft Ionrans) they, along 
The lawny vale, of ev'ry beauteous flone, 
Pile in the rofeate air with fond expenfe: 
Through filver channels glide the vagrant waveV 
And fall on filver beds cryftalline down, 
Melodious murmuring j while Luxury 
Over their naked limbs, with wanton hand, 
Sheds rofes, odours, {beds unheeded bane. 

N Swift 



266 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

Swift is the flight of wealth; unnumber'cl wants 
Brood of voluptuoufnefs, cry out aloud 
Neceffity, and feek the fplendid bribe. 
The citron beard, the bowl embofs'd with gems-, 
And tender foliage wildly wreath'd around 
Of feeming ivy, by that artful hand, 
Corinthian Thericles ; whate'er is known 
Of rarefl acquifition ; Tyrian garbs, 
Neptunian Albion's high teftaceous food, 
And flavour'd Chian wines with incenfefum'd 
To flake Patrician thirfl : for thefe, their rights 
In the vile ftreets they proftitute to fale ; 
Their ancient rights, their dignities, their laws, 
Their native, glorious freedom ! js there none, 
Is there no villain, that will bend the neck 
Stretch'd to the yoke? They come; the market throngs. 
But who hasmoft by fraud or force amafs'd ? 
Who moll can charm corruption with his doles ? 
He be the monarch of the Hate ; and lo 1 
Didius, vile us'rer ! through the crowd he mounts. 
Beneath his feet the Roman eagle cow'rs, 

And the red arrows fill his grafp uncouth. 

O Britons, O my countrymen, beware ! . 

Gird, gird your hearts ; the Romans once were free, 

Were brave, were virtuous— Tyranny howe'er 

Deign'd to walk forth awhile in pageant Mate, 

And with licentious pleafures fed the rout, 

The thoughtlefs many : to the wanton found 

Of fifes and drums they dane'd, or in the made 

Sung Caefar ! great and terrible in war, 

Immortal Casfar ! lo, a God, a God ! 

He cleaves the yielding ikies ! Caefar meanwhile 

Gathers the ocean pebbles ; or the gnat 

Earag'd purfues; or at his lonely meal 

Starves a wide province ; taftes, diflikes, and flings 

To dogs and fycophants : a God, a God! 

The flow'ry (hades and fhrines obfeene return. 

But 



Ch-ap. XXVI. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 267 

But fee along the north the tempeft fvvell 
O'er the rough Alps, and darken all their mows! 
-Sudden the Goth and Vandal, dreaded names! 
Rufh as the breach of waters, whelming all 
Their domes, their villas ; down the feftive piles, 
Down fall their Parian porches, gilded baths, 
And roll before the ftarm in clouds of duft. 

Vain end of human ftrengtb, of human ikill, 
Conqueft, and triumph, and domain, and pomp, 
And eafe and luxury ! O Luxury, 
Bane of elated life, of affluent ftates, 
'What dreary change, what ruin is not thine? 
How doth thy bowl intoxicate the mind : 
To the foft entrance of thy rofy cave. 
How do ft thou lure the fortunate and great! 
'Dreadful attraction : while behind thee gapes 
Th' unfathomable gulf where Aflmr lies 
O'erwhelm'd, forgotten ; and high-boafting Charii ; 
And Eia&i's haughty pomp ;. and beauteous Greece : 
And the great queen of Earth, imperial Rome !- .!>; sr* 

CHAP. XXVI. 

NATIONAL CHARACTERS, 

ak to the Tight where Appenine afcends* 
Bright as the fummer, Italy extends ; 
Her uplands Hoping deck the mountain's Cide, 
Weeds over woods in gay theatric pride; 
While oft, fome temple's mould'ring tops between^ 
With venerable grandeur mark the fcene. 

Could Nature's bounty fatisfy the breaft, 
The fens of Italy were furely bleit." 
Whatever fruits in different climes are found, 
That proudly rife, or humbly court the ground \ 
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, 
Whofe bright fuccefiion decks the. varied year; 

, w 2 Whatever 



2 f>3 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book -VI 

Whatever fweets falute the northern fky • 

With vernal lives that bloflbm but to die : 

Thefe here difporting own the kindred foil, 

Nor afk luxuriance from the planter's toil ; 

While fea-born gales their gelid wings expand 

To winnow fragrance round the fmiling land. 

But fmali the blifs thatfenfe alone beftows, 
And fenfual blifs is all this nation knows. 
In florid beauty groves and fields appear, 
Man feems the only growth that dwindles here. 
Contrafted faults through all his manners reign ; 
Though poor, luxurious ; though fubmiffive, vain ; 
Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue; 
And ev'n in penance planning fins anew. 
All evils here contaminate the mind, 
That opulence departed leaves behind; 
For wealth was theirs, not far remov'd the date 
When commerce proudly flourifh'd through the Hate : 
At her command the palace learnt to rife, 
Again thelong-fali'n column fought the fkies ; 
The canvas ^low'd beyond e'en Nature warm, 
The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form. 
Till, more unfteady than the fouthern gale, 
Commerce on other ihores difplay'd her fail : 
While nought remain'd of all that riches gave, 
But towns unmann'd, and lords without a flave : 
And late the nation found, with fruitlefs fkill, 
Its former ftrength was but plethoric ill. 

Yet ftili the lofs of wealth is here fupplied 
By arts, the fplendid wrecks of former pride ; 
From thefe the feeble heart and long fall'n mind, 
An eafy compenfation feem to find. 
Here may be feen, in bloodlefs pomp array'd, 
The pafteboard triumph and the cavalcade ; 
ProcefTions form'd for piety and love, 
A miftrefs or a faint in every grove. 
By fports like thefe are all their cares beguii'd, 
The fports of children fatisfy the child ; 

Each 






Chap. XXVI. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 269 

Each rtobltr aim reprefs'd by long control, 

Now fink-; at hit, or feebly mans the foul; 

While low delights, fucceeding faft behind, 

In happier mesnr.efs occupy the mind : 

As m thole domes, where Casfars once bore fway, 

Defac'd by time, and tottering in decay, * 

Amidft the ruin, heedlefs of the dead, v 

The flicker- feeking peafant builds his (lied, 

And, wondVmg man could want the larger pile, 

Exults, and owns his cottage with a fmiie. 

'My foul turn from them, turn we to furvey 
Whe?e rougher climes a nobler race difc lay ; 
Where the bleak Swifs their ftormy. manfions tread, 
And force a churlifh foil for fcanty bread ; 
No produ-ft here the barren hills afford, 
But man and fteel, the foldierand his fyyonJL 
No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, 
But winter ling'ring chills the lap of May ; 
No Zephyr fondly fues the mountain's breair, 
But meteors glare, and flormy glooms inveft. 

Yet ftill, ev'n here, Content can fpread a charm, 
Redrefs the clime, and all its ra^e difarm. 
Though poor thepeafant's hut, his feafts though tall, 
He fees his little lot the lot of all ; 
Sees no contiguous palace rear its head 
To (hame the meannefs of his humble filed ; 
No coftly lord the fumptuous banquet deal 
To make him loath his vegetable meal ; 
But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, 
Each vvim contracting", fits him to the foil. - 
Cheerful at morn he wakes from fhort repofe, 
Breads the keen air, and carols as he goes ; 
With patient angle trolls the finny deep, 
Or drives his vent'rous ploughfhare to the fteep ; 
Or feeks the den where fnow-tracks mark the way, 
And drags the ftruggling favag6 into day. 
At night returning, every labour fped, 
.He fits him down, the monarch of a fhed ! 

» 3 Smiles 



nyo DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VL 

Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round furveys 
His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze ; 
While his lov'd partner, boaftful of her hoard, 
Difplays her cleanly platter on the board : 
And haply too fome pilgrim, thither led, 
With many a tale repays»ihe nigh f ly bed. 

Thus every good his native wilds impart, 
Imprints the patriot pailion on his heart; 
And ev'n thofe hills, that round. his manfion rife, 
Enhance the bills his fcanty fund fupplies. 
Pear is that filed to -Ji'hich his foul conforms, 
And dear that hill which lifts him to the ftorms. 
And as a child, when fearing founds moleft, 
Clings clofe and clofer to the mother's breafl : 
So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, 
But bind him to his native mountains more. 

Such are the charms to barren ftates affign'd : 
Their wants but few, their wifhes all conhVd. 
Yet let them only mare the praifes due, 
If few their wants, their pleafures are but few ; 
For every want that flimuiates the breafl, 
Becomes a fource of pleafure when redrefs'd. 
Whence from fuch lands each pleafing fcience flies, 
That firfl excites defire, and then fupplies ; 
Unknown to thqin, when fenfual pleafures cloy, 
To fill the languid pan fe with finer joy; 
Unknown thofe powers that raife the foul to flame, 
Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame. 
Their level life is but a fmould'ring fire, 
Unquench'd by want, unfann'd by ilrong defire; 
Unfit for raptures, or if raptures cheer 
On fome high feflival of once a year, 
In wild excels the vulgar breafl takes fire, 
Till, buried in debauch, the blifs expire. 

But not their joys alone thus coarfely flow : 
Their morals, like their pleafures, are but low : 

For, 



Chap.' XXVI. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 2? 1 

For, as refinement flops,- from fire to fon, 

Unalter'd, unimprov'd the manners run, 

And love's and friendfhip's finely pointed dart 

Fail blunted from each indurated heart. 

Some fterner virtues o'er the mountain's breait 

May (it, like falcons cow 'ring on the rreft; 

But all the gentler morals, inch as play ■ 

Through life's more cultur'd walks, and charm the waV, 

-Thefe far difpers'd, on timorous pinions fly, 

To fport and flutter in £ kinder fky. 

To kinder fides, where gentler manners reign, 
I turn ; and France dilpbys her bright domaii*. 
GayTprightly land of mirth and focia: eafe, 
Pleas'd with thyfelf, whom ail the world can plea fe 3 
How often have I led thy fportive choir, 
With tunelefs pipe, befide the murmuring Loire? 
Where (hading elms along the margin grew, 
And freflien'd from the wave the Zephyr flew; 
And haply, tho' my harm touch faultering (till, 
But mock'd all time, and marr'd the dancer's (kill ; 
Yet would tRe village praife my wond'rous pow'r a 
And dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour. 
Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days 
Have led their children through the mirthful mazey 
And the gay grand fire, fkill'd in geftic lore, 
Has frifk'd beneath the burden of threefcore. 

So bleft a life thefe thoughtlefa realms difplay, 
Thus idly bufy rolls their world away : 
Theirs are thofe arts that mind to mind endear, 
For honour forms the fecial temper here. 
Honour, that praife which real merit gains, 
Or ev'n imaginary worth obtains, 
Here paffes current ; paid from hand to hand* 
It fhifts in fplendid traffic round the land : 
From courts, to camps, to cottages it ilrays, 
And all are. taught an avarice of praife : 

n 4 They 



272 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES'. Book V 

They pleafe, are pleas'd, they give to get cfleem, 
THf, Teeming bleft, they grow to what they fccm* 

But wfrle this fofter art their blifs fupplies, 
It gives their follies alfo room to rife ; 
For praife too dearly lov'd, or warmly (ought, 
Enfeebles all internal ftrength of thought, 
And the weak foul, within itfelf unbieft, 
Leans for all pleafure on another's breafr. 
Hence Oftentation here, with tawdry ait, 
Pants for the vulgar praife which fools impart ; 
Here Vanity affumes a pert grimace, 
And trims her .robes of frieze with copper lace j 
Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer, 
To boaft one fplendid banquet once a year; 
The mind flill turns where fhifting paffion draws, 
Nor weighs the folid worth of felf-applaufe. 

To men of other minds my fancy flies, 
Embofom'd in the deep where Holland lies : 
Methinks her patient fons before me fland, 
Where the broad ocean leans againft the land, 
And, fedulous to ftop the coming tide, 
Lifts the tall rampire's artificial pride. 
Onward, methinks, and diligently flow, 
The firm connected bulwark feems to grow; 
Spreads its long arms amidit the watery roar, 
Scoops out an empire., and ufurps the ih ore. 
While the pent ocean, riling o'er the pile, 
Sees an amphibious world beneath him fmiie j 
The .flow canal, the yellow-bloiFom'd vale, 
The willow-tufted bank, the gliding fail, 
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain, 
A new creation refcued from his reign. 

Thus while around the wave-fubjecled foil 
Impels the native to repeated toil, 
lndullrious habits in each boforn reign* 
And industry begets a love of gain. 




Chap. XXVII. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 273 

Hence all the good from opulence that fprings, 

With ail thofe ills fuperfliious treafure brings, 

Are here difplay'd. Their much-lov'd wealth impart* 

Convenience, plenty, elegance, and arts ; 

But view them clofer, craft and fraud appear, 

Ev'n liberty itfelf is barter'd here. 

At gold's fuperior charms ail freedom flies, 

The needy fell it, and the rich man buys; 

A land of tyrants, and a den of flavess 

Here wretches feek difhonourable graves, 

And, calmly bsnt, to fervitude conform, 

Dull as their lakes, that (lumber in the ftorm. 

Heavens ! how unlike their Belgic fires of old ! 
Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold ; 
War on each bread* and freedom on each brow ! 
How much unlike the fons of Britain now ! 

Goldsmith, 

CHAP. XXVII. 

ANCIENT ROME. 

The great Republic fee! that glow'd fublime 
With the mix'd freedom of a thoufand ftates; 
RaisM on the thrones of Kings her Curule Chair, 
And by her Fafces aw'd the fubje£t world. 
See bufy millions quick'ning all the land, 
With cities throng'd, and teeming culture high ^ 
For Nature therrfmil'd on her free born fons, 
And pour'd the plenty that belongs to Mea* 
Behold, the country cheering, villas rife 
In lively profpect ; by the fecret lapfe 
Of brooks now loft, and ftreams renownM in fong^ 
In Umbria's clofing vales, or on the brow 
Of her brown hills, that breathe the fcented gale; 
On Baioels viny coaft, where peaceful feas., 
Fann'd by kind Zephyrs, ever kifs the fhore* 
And fans unclouded ihine thro' pureil air \ 

w| Or, 



%74 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VL 

Or, in the fpacious neighbourhood of Rome, 
Far finning upward to the Sabine Hills, 
To AnioVroar, and Tlbur's olive fhade; 
To where Prenefte lifts her airy brow ; 
Or downward fpreading to the funny (bore, 
I Where Alba breathes the frefhnefs" of the main. 

See diftant mountains leave their valleys dry, 
And o'er the proud arcade their tribute pour, 
To lave imperial Rome. For ages laid, . 
Deep, marly, firm, diverging every way, 
With tombs of heroes facred, fee her roads, 
By various nations trod, and fuppliant kings, 
With legions flaming, or with triumph gay. 

Full in the centre of thefe wondrous works, 
The pride of earth ! . Rome in her- glory fee ! - 
Behold her demigods, in fenatemet; 
.All head to counfel, and all heart to a$ : 
The commonweal infpiring every tongue 
With fervent eloquence, unbrib'd, and bokl ; 
Ere tame corruption taught the fervile herd 
To rank obedient to a mailer's voice. 

Her Forum fee> warm, popular, and loud, 
In trem blij \ wonder hufh'd, when the two Sires, 
As they the private father greatly quell'd, 
Stood up ffae public fathers of the ftate. 
See Juftice Judging there, in human fliape: 
Hark! how with Freedom's voice it thunders high, 
Or in foft murmurs fin&s to Tully's tongue.- 

Her Tribes, her Cenfors,- fee; her generous troops 
Whcfe pay was glory, and their beft reward 
Sree for their country, and for me * to die '. 
Ere mercenary fniirder grew a trade. 

Mark, as the purple triumph waves along, 
The higheft pomp and loweil fall of life. 

Her fefiive games, the fchools of heroes, fee ; 
Her Circus, ardent with contending youth; 
Her ftreets, her temples, palaces, and baths,, 
* Liherfy is /peaking* 

mi 



Chap. XXVIII. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 2?$ 

Full of fair forms, of Beauty's eldeft born, 

And of a people call in Virtue's mould. 

While fculpture lives around, andAfian hills 

Lend their belt ftores to heave the pillar'd dome 5 

All that to Roman ftrength the fofter toueh 

Of Grecian art can join. But language fails 

To paint this fun, this centre of mankind ; 

Where every virtue, glory, treafure, art, 

Attracted flrong, in heightened luftre met. Thomson 



CHAP. XXVIII. 
ANCIENT GREECE, 

O Greece ! thou iapient nurfe of Finer Arts ! 
Which to bright Science blooming Fancy bore,. 
Be this thy praife : that Thou, -and Thou alonty 
In thefe haft led the way,, in thefe excell'd, 
Crown'd with the laurel of alfenting Time. 

In thy full language, fpeaking mighty things 
Like a clear torrent clofe, or elfe diffus'd 
A broad majefiic fheUrrf, and rolling on 
Through all the winding harmony of found y. 
In it the power of eloquence at large, 
Breath'd the perfuafive or pathetic foul j , 
•Still'd by degrees the democratic ftorm, 
Or bade it threai'mng rife, and. tyrants- (hook ? , 
Flufh'd at the head of their victorious troops.! 
In it the Mufe, her fury never quench'd 
By mean, unyielding praife, or jarring founds 
Her vmconfm'd divinity difplayM ; 
And, fliil harmonious, fornrd it to her will £ 
Or foft deprefs'dit to the fiiepherd's moan, 
Or rais'd it f welling to the tongue of gods. 

Heroic Song was thine ; the Fountain- Bard^ 
Whence each poetic frrearn derives its courfe, 

I Moral Scenej thy chief deiio'htjj , 



2?6 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VT. 

Where idle Fancy durft not mix her voice, 

When Reafon fpoke auguft ; the fervent heart 

Orplain'd, or ftorm'd ; and .in th' impafiion'd man, 

Concealing art with art,_the poet funk. 

This potent fchool of manners, but when left 

To loofe neglect, a land-corrupting plague, 

Was not unworthy deem'd of public care, 

And boundlefs coft, by thee; whofe every fon, 

Ev'n laft mechanic, the true tafte poflefs'd 

Of what had flavour to the nourifli'd foul. 

The fweet enforcer of the poet's drain, 

Thine was the meaning mufic of the heart. 

Not the vain trill, that, void of paffion, runs 

In giddy mazes, tickling idle ears ; 

But that deep-fearching voice, and artful hand, 

To which refpondent (hakes the varied fouL 

Thy fair ideas, thy delightful forms, 
By Love imagin'd, by the Graces touch'd, 
The boaft of well-pkas'd Nature ! Sculpture feiz\L 
And bade them ever fmile in Parian none. 
Selecting Beauty's choice, and that again 
Exalting, blending in a perfect whole, 
Thy workmen left ev'n Nature's felf behind^ 
Fromthofe far different, whofe prolific hand 
Peoples a nation ; they for years and years, 
By the cool touches of judicious toil, 
Their rapid genius curbing, pour'd it all 
Thro* the live features of one breathing ftone. 
There, beaming full, it fhone,, exprefHng gods: 
Jgate's awful brow, Apollo's air divirse,. 
The fierce, atrocious frown of finew'd Mars, 
Or the fly graces of the Cyprian queen. 
Minutely perfect all ! Each dimple funk, 
And every mufcle fwell'd, as Nature taught, 
In treiTes, braided gay, the marble way'd, 
Flow'd in loofe robes, or thin tranfparent veils j 
Spiung into motion, {ohenW into fTeih ; 
Was nYd to padion, or refinM to fouL 

+- Not 



Chap. XXVIII. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 277 

Nor lefs thy Pencil-, with creative touch, 
Shed mimic life; when all thy brightest dames 
Affembled, Zeuxisin his Helen mix'd. 
And when Apelles, who peculiar knew 
To give a grace that more than mortal fmil'd, 
The Soul of beauty, call'd the Queen of Love> 
Frefli from the billows, blufhing orient charms, 
EvV. fuch enchantment then thy pencil pour'd, 
That cruel-thoughted War rh' impatient torch 
DauYd to the ground ; and, -rather than deftroy 
The patriot picture, let the city 'fcape. 

Firft elder Sculpture taught her Sifter Art 
Correct defign ; where great ideas fhone, 
And in the fee ret trace expreflion fpoke: 
Taught her the graceful attitude; the turn, 
And beauteous airs of head ; the native ac% 
Or bold, or eafy ; and, caft free behind, 
The f welling mantle's well-adjufled flow. 
Then the bright Mule, their elder Sifter, came 3 
And bade her follow where (lie led the way ; 
Bade earth, and fea, and air, in colours rile ; 
And copious action on the canvas glow : 
Gave her gay Fable; fpread Invention's (lore; 
Enlarg'd her View ; taught Compofition high, 
And juft Arrangement, circling round one point, 
That ftarts to fight, .binds and commands the whole. 
Caught from the heavenly Mufe a nobler aim, 
And, fcorning the. foft trade of mere delight, 
O'er all thy temples, porticoes, and fchools, 
Heroic deeds fhe trae'd, and warm difplayM 
Each moral beauty to the ravifh'd eye, . 
There, as th' imagin'd prefence of the God 
Arous'd tlie mind, or vacant hours indue'd, 
Calm contemplation, or afTembied youth 
Bnrn'd in ambitious circle round the fage, 
The living leflpn ftole into the heart 
With more prevailing force than dwells in words, 
Thefe rcufe to glory ; while, to rural life, 

The 



B78 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

The fofter canvas oft repos'd the foul. 

There gayly broke the fun-iilumin'd cloud ; 

The Lefe'ning profpecl, and\the mountain blue 

VaninYd in air; thie precipice frown'd dire; 

W bite, down the reck, the rufhing torrent dafh'd : 

Thetfuii fhone trembling o'er the diftant main : 

The, tempefr foam 'd, immenfe; the driving ftorm 

SaddenM the flats, and, from the doubling gloom, 

On the fcath'd oak the ragged lightning fell :, 

In clofmg lhades, and where the current ftrays, 

With Peace and Love, and Innocence, around, 

Pip'd the Iohq fnepherd to his feeding flock : 

Round happy parents fmil'd their younger felves ; 

And friends convers'd, by death divided long. 

To public Virtue thus the fmiling Arts, 
Unblemifh'd handmaids, ferv'd ; the Graces' they 
To drefs this faireft Venus. Thus rever'd, 
And plac'd beyond the reach of fordid care, 
The high awarders of immortal fanAe, 
Alone for glory thy great rhafte'rs flrove; 
Courted by kings, and by contending ftatcs 
Afilim'd" the boafted honour of their birth. 

In Architecture too thy rank fupreme ! 
Trmt.art where m oft magnificent appears 
The little builder man ; by thee refund, 
And, fmiling high, to full perfection brought, 
Such thy fu.re rules, that Goths of every age,. 
Who fcorn'd their aid, have only loaded earth 
With labour'd heavy monuments of mame. 
Not thofe gay domes that o'er thyfplendid more 
Shot, all proportion, .up. Firffc unadorffd^ 
And nobly plain, the manly Doric role : 
To' Ionic then, with decent matron* 
Ker airy pillar heav'd; luxuriant, lair, 
The rich Corinthian fpread her vvantqn" vvre. 
The whole fo meafur'd true, fo lefleri'd 
By fine proportion, that the m; 
Form'd to repel the ftill or ftofmj/ wafte* 

w 



Chap. XXIX. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 379 

Of roiling »ages, light as fabrics leok'd 

That.froin the magic wand aerial rife. Thomson. 

CHAP. XXIX. 

THE KING OF AFREE PEOPLE. 

— Thrice happy ! did they Enow 

Their happinefs, Britannia's bounded kings. 

What though not theirs the boaft, in dungeon glooms 

To plunge bold Freedom, or to eheerlefs wilds 

To drive him f r< m the cordial face of friend ; 

Of fierce to irrike him at the midnight hour, 

By mandate blind, not Jintice, that delights 

To dare the keener! eye of open day ? 

What though no glory to control the laws, 

And make injurious Will their only rule, 

They deem it ! What though, tools ox wanton power, 

Peftiferous armies fw-arm not at their call ? 

What though they give not a relentlefs crew 

Of Civil Furies, proud Oppreflion's fangs, 

To tear at pleafure the dejected land, 

With irarving labour pampering idle wafte ? 

To clothe the naked, feed the hungry, wipe 

The guiltlefs tear from lone Affliflion's eye;. 

To raife hid Merit, fet th' alluring light 

Of Virtue high to view ; to -.ouriih Arts, 

Direct the thunder of an injur'd ftate, 

Make a whole glorious people fing for joy, 

Blefs human kind, and through the downward depth 

Of future times to fpread that better fun 

Which lights up Britifh foul : for deeds like thefe, 

The dazzling fair career unbounded lies; 

While ((till fuperior blifs) the dark abrupt 

Is kindly barr'd, the precipice of ill. - 

O luxury divine ! ■ O, poor to this, 

Ye giddy glories of Defpotic thrones ! 

By this, by this indeed, is imag'd Heaven, 

By bouadlefs Good without the power of 



*8e DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI, 



CHAP. XXX. 

INDEPENDENCE, 

Hail! Independence, hail! Heaven's next beft gift, 

To that of life and an immortal foul ! 

The life of life ! that to the banquet high 

And fober meal gives tafte ; to the bow'd roof 

Fair-drearn'd repofe, and to the cottage charms. 

Of public freedom, hail, thou fecret Source ! 

Whofe ftreams from every quarter confluent form 

My better Nile, that nurfes human life. 

By rills from thee deduc'd, irriguous, fa], 

The private field looks'gay, with Nature's wealth 

Abundant, flows, and blooms with each delight 

That nature craves. Its happy mafter there, 

The only Freeman, walks his pleafing round : 

Sweet-featur'd Peace attending : feailefs Truth : 

Firm Refolution ; Goodnefs, blefftng alt 

That can rejoice j Contentment, fureft friend ; 

And, ftill frefn ftoresfrom nature's book deriv'd, 

Philofophy, companion ever new. 

Thefe cheer his rural, and fuflain or fire, 

When into action cali'd, his bufy hours. 

JMeantime true-judging moderate defires, 

CEconomy and Tafte combia'd, direct 

His clear affairs, and from debauching fiends 

Secure his little kingdom. Nor can thofe 

Whom Fortune heaps, without thefe virtues, reach 

That truce with pain, that animated eafe, 

That felf-enjoyment fprjnging from within ; 

That Independence, active, or retir'd, 

Which make the founded blifs of man'below: 

But, loll beneath the rubbifii of their means, 

And drain'd by wants to Nature all unknown, 

A wandering, taflelefs, gaily-wretched train, 

Though rich, are beggars, and though noble, flaves, 

JBritGAS*. 



e«AF.XXXI. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 181 

Britons, be firm ! nor let Corruption ily 
Twine round your heart indiffoluble chains I 
The fteel of Brutus burft the groffer bonds 
By Casfar call o'er Rome ; but flill remained 
The fort enchanting fetters of the mind, 
And other Caefars rofe* Determine^ hold 
Your Independence; for, that once deftroyM, 
JJnfounded Freedom is a morning dream, 
That flits aerial from the Trading eye. Thomson, 



CHAP. XXXI. 
VERSES ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND, 

flUST LEAVIN6 A FAVOURITE RETIREMENT, 
PREVIOUS TO SETTLING ABROAD. 

(VAitten in the Clofe of Winter.) 

Ere yet your footfteps quit the place 
Your prefence long hath deign'd to grace, 
With foftening eye and heart deplore 

The confeious fcenes, your own no more. 

When vernal clouds their influence mower, 
Difclofe the bud, and rear the flower, 
Who to yon leafing grove will come 
Where the rath primrofe loves to bloom, 
And fondly feek, with heedful tread, 
The forward flow'ret's downy head? 
Or, when the violet leaves the ground, 
Scent the pure perfume breathing round ? 
The garden tribes that gladlier grew, 
While cherifli'd by your foftering view, 
No more relume their wonted hues; ^ 
No more their wonted fweets difrufe ! 
W T ho firft will 'fpy the fwallow's wing ? 
Or hear the cuckoo greet the for in g ? 
Unmark'd (hall then th* affiduous dove, 
With rurTUng plumage, urge his love ! 

Unnoted, 



2Sz DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Book VI. 

Unnoted, though in lengthened ftrain, 

The haftiful nightingale complain ! 

The bleating group of new-bom' lambs," 

That frifk around their pafturing dams, 

No more allure the palling eye; 

Or morn, invoke your fympathy ! 

Who lifdefs now will fauntering fray 

Where buxorn nifties ted their hay, 

And o'er the field furvey afkance 

The wavy vapour quivering dance? 

Or, funk fupine with raufing eyes, 

Enjoy the hum of noon-day flies ; 

Or watch the bee from bell to bell, , 

Where AeckerM fox-gloves edge the dell ! 

Or, 'mid the fultry heat, reclin'd 

Beneath the poplar^ woo the wind ; 

While, to the lighteft air that ftrays, 

Each leaf its hoary fide difplays ? 

Who, drawn by Nature's varying face, 

O'er Heaven the fpreading tempeft trace? 

Or, in the rear of funny rain, 

Admire the bright bow's gorgeous train, 

Till all its glowing tints decay, 

And the dimm'd-vifion melt away ? 

Who now furmount the upland's height, 

When Morning beams her biufliing 1 .-at. 

To view the gots'mer pear:'d with , 

That tremulous (hoots each mingling hue ? 

Or mark the clouds in liveries gay, 

Precede the radiant orb of day ? 

Wno, when his ainpleft cov.rfe is run. 

Willful purfue the finking fun ? 

To common eyes he vainly mines, 

Unheeded riles or declines ! ' 

Afiant their brows, the golden ray 

In vain th' empurpled hills difplay. 

Steep fidelong woods, with farms between ; 

Dark hedge-row elms, with meadows green ; 

The 



Chap. XXXI. DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. 283 
The white church peeping half through trees : 
Slopes waving corn, as wills the breeze ; 
The podding bean-field, ftrip'd with balks ; 
The hurdled fheep-cote ; hoof-trod walks j 
The road that winds athwart the down ; 
The fkirting furze -brake; fallow brown ; 
The windmill's fcar'cely circling vane; 
The villager's returning wain ; 
The weftern window's crimfon blaze, 
That flares obtruflve on the gaze ; 
The eager heifer's echoing low, 
Far from her calf compelled- to go ; 
The throttle's wild melodious lay, 
That bids farewell to parting day ; 
The cottage fmoke^bat ftraight afcends; 
The labourer blithe that homeward bends : 
The gathering fumes that lightly (lum 
O'er the clear brook's undimpled brim ; 
The plank and rail that bridge the ftream ; 
The rifing full-moon's amber gleam—* 
• No more the onward foot beguile, 
Where pollards rude protect the itile. 
Whofe look now fcans the dufky fphere, 
To note each kindling ftar appear ? 
Who now the flufliing dawn defcries, 
That upward fireams o'er northern fkies? 
Or the wan meteor's lurid light, 
That, headlong glancing, mocks the fight ? 
In the dark lane who now require, 
The glow-worm's ineffectual fire ? 
Or catch the bells' from diitant vale, 
That load by fits the freshening gale, 
Till, itartled from the ruftling fpray, 
The moping owl rewings her way ? 
When Autumn fear the copfe invades, 
No .more you haunt the woodland glades, 
To eye the change on ev'rv bough ; 
Or eddying leaf defcending ftowj 

Or 



^4 DESCRIPTIVE PIECES. Bqok VI. 

Or peering fquirre! nimbly glean 
Each uut, that hung before unfeen ; 
Or fiitfing down from thiltle borne ; 
Or gloffy haw that crowds the thorn, 
Whence oft in haws obfervers old 
Portend the length of Winter's cold *; 
Wak'd/by the "flail's redoubling found 
When fpangling boar-fro.fi crifps the ground. 
No more forego bewildering deep. 
To climb with health yon airy fteep. 
When deepening (hows opprefs the plain* 
The birds no more their boon obtain ; 
The red-breaft hovering round your doors, 
No more his dated meal implores ; 
Where all that needed found relief, 
No tearful eye laments their grief ; 
No lenient hand difpeis their pain, 
Fainting they fue, yet fue in vain. 
But though the fcenes you now deplore, 
With heart and eye- be yours no more : 
Though every long-known object feem 
Unreal, as the morning's dream, 
You ftill with retrofpective glance, 
Or rapt in fome poetic trance, 
At will may ev'ry charm renew ; 
Each failing profpect full review ; 
Through memory's power and fancy's aid, 
The piclur'd phantoms ne'er mall fade. 

And, O! where'er your footfleps roam; 
Where'er you fix your future home; 
May joys attending crown the pad, 
And Heaven's bleft manfion be your laft ! S. H. 

* Store of haws portends cold winters, Lord Bacon's 
Natural Hi/iorj. 



BOOK VII. 
PATHETIC PIECES. 

CHAP. I. 

DIRGE in CYMBELINE, 

To fair Fidele's grafly tomb, 
- Soft maids and village hinds fhall bring ' 
Each opening Aveet, of earlied bloom, 
And rifle all the breathing fpring. 

No wailing ghoil fliall dare appear 

To. vex with fhrieks this quiet grove 3 
But fhepherd lads afTemble here, 

And melting virgins own their love* 

No wither'd witch mail here be feen, 

No goblins lead their nightly crew : 
The female fays fliall haunt the green, 

And drefs thy grave with pearly, dew ! 

The red-breaft oft at evening hours 
- Shall kindly lend his little aid, 
W ith hoary mofs, and gathered flowers, 
To deck the ground where thou art laid. 

When howling winds, and beating rain, 

In tempers (hake the fylvan cell j 
Or 'rriidft the chace, on every plain, 

The tender thought on thee fhall dwell ; 

Each lonely fcene fhall thee reftore, 

For thee the tear be duly filed ; 
Belov'd, till life can .charm no more : 

And'mournM till Pity's felf be dead. Coilins* 



286 - PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

CHAP. II. 
A WINTER PIECE. 

It. was. a winter's evening, and faft came down thefnow, 
And keenly o'er the wide heath the bitter blaft did blow, 
When a damfel all forlorn, quite bewilder'd in her way, 
Prefs'd her baby to her bofom, and fadly thus did fay : 

u Oh cruel was my father, that iliut his door on me, 
And cruel was my mother, that fuch alight could fee ; 
And cruel is the wintry wind, that chills my heart with cold} 
But crueller than all the lad, that left my love for gold ! 

u Hum, hufh, my lovely baby, and warm thee in my breaft; 
Ah ! little thinks thy father how fadly we're diftreft ; 
For, cruel as he is, did he know but how we fare, " 
He'd fliield us in his arms from this bitter piercing air. 

«* Cold, cold, my deareft jewel ! thy little life is gone: 
Oh let my tears revive thee, fo-warm that trickle down ; 
My tears th'at gufh fo warm, oh they freeze before they fall, 
Ah wretched, wretched mother ! thou'rt now bereft of all." 

Then down me nmk : , defpairing* upon the drifted fnow, 
And, wrung with killrng anguifh, lamented loud her woe j 
She kifs'd her baby's pale lips, and laid it by her fide, 
Then caft her eyes to Heaven, then bow'd her head, and died. 

A. 

CHAP. III. 

ELEGY to PITY: 

Hail, lovely power ! whofebpfom heaves the figh, 
When fancy paints the fcene of deep diftrefs, 

Whofe tears fpontaneous cry&allize the eye, 
When rigid Fate denies the power to blefs. ■ 

Not all the fweets Arabia's gales convey 

From flow'ry meads can with that figh compare ; 

Not dew-drops glittering in the morning ray 
Seem near fo beauteous as that falling tear. 
*** Devoid 



Chap. IV. PATHETIC PIECES. . »8; 

Devoid of fear, the fawns around thee play ; 

Emblem of peace, the dove before thee flies; 
No blood-ftain'd traces mark thy blamelefs way, 
Beneath thy feet no hapiefs infect dies. 

Come, lovely nymph, and range the mead with me, 
To fpring the partridge from the guileful foe, 

From fecret mares the flruggling bird to free, 
And flop the hand uprais'd to give the blow. 

And when the air with heat meridian glows, 

And nature droops beneath the conquering gleam, 

Let us, flow wandering where the current flows, 
Save finking files that float along the' ftream. 

Or turn to nobler, greater talks, thy care, 

To me thy fympathetic gifts impart; 
Teach me in Friendfhip's griefs to bear afhare, 

Andjuflly boafl the generous, feeling heart. 

Teach me to foothe the helplefs orphan's grief, 
With timely aid the widow's woes affuage, 

To Mifery's moving cries to yield relief, 
And be the fure refdurce of drooping age. 

So, when the genial fpring of life mall fade, 
■ And finking nature owns the dread decay, 
Some foul congenial then may lend its aid, 
And gild the clofe of life's eventful day. 



CHAP. IV, 

An EVENING ADDRESS to the NIGHTINGALE. 

Sweet Bird ! that, kindly perching near, 
Poureft thy plaints melodious in mine ear, 
Not, like bafe worldlings, tutor'd to forego 
The melancholy haunts of Woe, 

Thanks 



m PATHETIC PIECES. Boor VII. 

Thanks for thy forrow-foothing drain ; 
For furely rhou hail known to prove, 
Like me, the pangs of haplefs love ; 

Elfe why fo feelingly complain, 
And with thy piteous notes thus fadden all the grove? 
Say, 'doft thou mourn thy ravifh'd mate, 

That oft enamour d on thy drains has hung? 
Or has the cruel hand of Fate 
"Bereft thee of thy darling young ? 

Alas, for both I weep 

In all the pride of youthful charms, 
A beauteous bride torn from my circling arms ! 
A lovely babe, that {hould have liv'd to blefs, 

And fill my doting eyes with frequent tears, 
At once the iburce of rapture and diflrefs, 

The fiattering prop of my declining years ! 
In vain from death to refcue I efTay'd, 

By every art that Science could devife, 
Alas ! it languiuVd for a mother's aid, 

And wing'd its flight to feek her in the fides— 
Then, O ! our comforts be the fame, 

At evening's peaceful hour, 
To fhun the noify paths of wealth and fame, 

And breathe our forrows in this lonely bovver. 

But why, alas ! to thee complain ? 

To thee — unconfeious of my pain ! 

Soon (halt thou ceafe to mourn thy lot fevere, 

And hail the dawning of a happier year : 

The genial warmth of joy-renewing fpring 

Again fhall plume thy fhatter'd wing ; 

Again thy little heart fhall tranfport prove, 

Again fhall flow thy notes refponfive to thy love. 
But, oh I for me in vain may feafons roll, 

Nought can dry up the fountain of my tears, 
Deploring ftill the comfort of my soul, 
. I count my forrows by increafing years. 

Tell 



Chap. IV. PATHETIC PIECES. sSq 

Tell me, thou Siren Hope, deceiver, fay, 

Where is the promised period of my woes? 
Full three long lingering years have roll'd away, 
And yet I weep, a flranger to repofe : 
O what delufion did thy tongue employ ! 
" That Emma's fatal pledge of love, 

Her laft bequeft— ■ with all -a mother's care, 
The bitternefs of forrow mould remove, 

Soften the horrors of defpair, 

And cheer a heart long loft to joy I" 
How oft, when fondling in mine arms, 

Gazing enraptur'd on its angel face, 

My foul the maze of Fate uould vainly trace, 
And burn with all a father's fond alarms! 
And O what flattering fcenes had Fancy feign'd, 
• How did I rave of bleflings yet in ftore ! 
Till every aching fenfe was fweetly pain'd, 

Nor my full heart could bear, nor tongue could utter 
more- 

*' Juft Heaven 1" I cried, with recent hopes elate, 

" Yet I will live — will live, though Emma's. dead— 
So long bow'd down beneath the llorms of Fate, 

Yet will I raife my wo-deje&ed head ! 
My little Emma, f'ow my all, 

Will want a father's care, 
Her looks, her wants my rafh refolves recall, 

And for her fake the ills of life I'll bear : 
And oft together we'll complain, 

Complaint the only blifs my foul can know, 
From me, my child fliall learn the mournful ilrain, 

And prattle tales of woe ; 
And © m that aufpicious hour, 
When fate refigns her perfecutino; power, 
With duteous zeal her hand fliall clofe, 

No more to weep — my forrow dreaming eyes, 
When death gives mifery repofe, 

And opes a glorious paffage to the fetes." •: 

O Vain 



290 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

Vain thought ! it muft not be — She too is dead — 

The flattering fcene is o'er— 
My hopes for ever — ever fled— 

And vengeance can no more — 
Crufh'd by misfortune — Mailed by difeafe— 

And none— none left to bear a friendly part ! 
To meditate my welfare, health, or eafe, 

Or foothe the anguifli of an aching "heart ! 
Now all one gloomy fcene, till welcome Death, 

With lenient hand (O falfely deem'd feverc) 
Shall kindly flop my grief-exhaufled breath, 

And dry up every tear; 
Perhaps, obfequious to my will, . 

But ah ! from my affeclions far remov'd ! 
The laft fad office flrangers may fulfil, 

As if I ne'er had been belov'd; 
As if, unconfcious of poetic fire, 
I ne'er had touch'd the trembling lyre, 
As if my niggard hand ne'er dealt relief, 
Nor my heart melted at another's grief. 

Yet—while this weary life fliall lair, 

While yet my tongue can form the impaffion'd drain, 
In piteous accents fliall the Mufe complain, 
And dwell with fond delay on bleffings pad: j 
For O how grateful to a wounded heart, 
The tale of mifery to impart 1 
From others' eyes bid artlefs forrows flow, 
And raife efteem upon the bafe of woe! 
Even he* 5 , 'the nobleft of the tuneful throng, 

Shall deign my love-lorn, tale to hear, 
Shall catch the fojt contagion of my fong, 

And pay my penfire Mufe the tribute of -a tear. 

Shaw. 



fr Lord Lytikton. 



Chap. V. PATHETIC PIECES. 29* 

CHAP. V. 
PARTING of HECTOR and ANDROMACHE. 

«« Too daring Prince ! ah, whither doft thou run ? 

Ah too forgetful of thy wife and fon ! 

And think'fl thou not how wretched we fhall-be, 
•A widow I, a helplefs orphan he! 
* For fure iuch courage length of time denies, 

And thou mull fall thy virtue's facrifice. 

Greece in her fingle heroes flrove in vain; 

"Now hods, oppofe thee, and thou muft be (lain ! 

O. grant *fne, Gods ! ere Heeler meets his doom, 

Ali I can aik of Heav'n, an early tomb ! 
H So fnall my days in one fad tenour run. 

And end with foff&ws as they firfl begun. 

No parent now rfemains my grief to fhare, 

No father's aid, no mother's tender care* 

Yet while my Hector ftill furvives, I fee 

My father, mother, brethren, all, in thee: 
Abs ! my parents, brothers, kindred, all, 
Once more will perifh, if my Hector fall, 

'Thy wif^ thy infant, in thy danger fhare i 
O prove .a nufbanct s and a/ather's^are ! 
That quarter nioft the fkilful Greeks annoy, 
Where yon wild fig-trees join the wall of Troy: 
Thou, from this tow 'r defend th' important pod: 
There Agamemnon points his dreadful hoft ; 
That pafs Tydides^' Ajax, flrive to gain 5 
And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train, 
Thrice our bold foe the fierce attack has giv'Oj 
Or led by hopes, or dictated from Heaven. 
Let others in the field their arms employ, 
But flay my Hector here, and guard his Troy.' 5 
The chief jpeplied, if That poll fhall be my car** 

Iot that alone, but all the works of war* 
o 3 How 



292 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

How would the fons of Troy, in arms renown'd, 

And Troy's proud dames, whofe garments fweep the ground, 

Attaint the luftre of my former name, 

Should Hector bafely quit the field of fame ! 

My early youth was bred to martial pains, 

My foul impels me to th' embattled plains : 

Let me be foremofl to defend the throne, 

And guard my father's glories and my own. 

" Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates; 
(How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!) 
The day when thou, imperial Troy ! rauft bend, 
And fee thy warriors fall, thy glories end. 
And yet no dire prefage fo wounds my mind, 
My mother's death, the ruin of my kind, 
Not Priam's hoary hairs defii'd with gore, 
Not ail my brothers gafping'on the fhore; 
As thine, Andromache ! thy griefs I dread'; 

fee thee trembling, weeping, captive led! 
In Argive looms our battles- to defign, 
And woes, of which fo large a part was thine! 
To bear the vigor's hard commands, or bring 
The weight of waters from Hyperia's fpring. 
' There while you groan beneath the load of life, 
They crv, Behold the mighty Hector's wife ! 
Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to fee, 

all thy :i -oes ; by naming me. 
The t of glory pad, and prefent fhame, 

A thoufa.-ul griefs, frail waken at the name ! 
i lie cold before that dreadful day, 
load of monumental clay! 
Thv T Hector, wrapp'd in everlafting fleep, 

ear thee figh, nor fee thee weep.'* 
Tin havi g fpoke,. th' iiluftrions chief of Tro^ 
Sfretch'd his fond arms to clafp the lovely boy. 
The babe clung, crying, to his nurfe's breaft, 
■ScarM at the dazzling helm, and nodding creft. 

. 9 With 





hector ^Andromache . 



hultluh'd ,,/j i >,./<•<' directs tyJ-Johnson in, S? Pauls Ch.7'« ' Jt/rj j ;"■-■- 



Chap. V. PATHETIC PIECES. 293 

With fecret pleafure each fand parent £nii'd, 

And Hector halted to relieve fjis child, 

The glittering terrors from his brows unbound, 

And plac'd the beaming hetmc ground : 

Then kifs'd'the child, and lining high in air, 

Thus to the Godo prefeir'd a father's pray'r: 

" O Thou ! whole glory fills th' ethereal throne, 
And all ye deathlefs po.w'rs, protect my fori ! 
Grant him, like me, to purchafe juft renown, 
To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown, 
Againft his country's foes the war to wage, 
And rife the Hector of the future age ! 
So when triumphant from fuccefsful toils 
0£ heroes (lain he hears the reeking fpoils, 
Whole hofls-may hail him with deferv'd acclaim, 
And fay, This chief iranfcends his father's fame: 
While pleas'd amidfl the gen'ral fhouts of Troy, 
His mother's confcious heart o'erflows with joy." 

He fpoke, and fondly gazing on her charms, 
Reftor'd the pleating burden to her arms : 
Soft on her fragrant breaft the babe file laid, 
HufiYd to repofe, and with a fmile furvey'd. 
The troubled pleafure foon chaftis'd by fear, 
She mingled with the fmile a tender tear. 
The foften'd chief with kind companion vievv*d, 
And dry'd the falling drops, and thus purfuM : 

" Andromache ! my foul's far better part ! 
Why with untimely forrows -heaves thy heart? 
No hoflile hand can antedate my doom, 
Till fate condemns me to the fiient tomb, 
Fix'd is the term of all the race of earth, 
And fuch the hard condition of our birth ; 
No force can then refill, no flight can favej 
All fink alike, the fearful and the brave, 
No more — but haften to thy tafks at home, 
There guide the fpindle, and direct the loom : 
Me glory fummons to the martial fcene, 
The field of combat is the fphere of men. 

o 3 Where 



294 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

Where heroes war, the foremofl place I claim, 
The firfi: in danger as the fir ft in fame." 

Thus having faid, the glorious chief refumes 
His tow'ry helmet, black with finding plumes. 
His princefs parts with a prophetic figh, 
Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eve 
That flream'd at every look: then moving flow, 
Sought her own palace, and indulg'd her woe. 
There, while her tears deplor'd the godlike man, 
Through ail her train the foft infection ran; 
The pious maids their mingled forrows fhed, 
And mourn'd the living Hector, as the dead. 

Pope's Homer. 

CHAP. VI. 
HELENA UPBRAIDING HERMIA. 

Injurious Hermia, moft ungrateful maid, 

Have you confpir'd, have you with thefe contriv-'d 

To bait me with this foul derifionr 

Is all the counfel that we two have (har'd, 

The lifter's vows, the hours that we have fperVt, 

When we have chid the hafty-footed time 

For parting us; oh! and is all forgot? 

All fchool-days friendmip, childhood innocence? 

We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, 

Created with our needles both one flower, 

Both on one fampler, fitting on one cufhion .: .,. 

Both warbling of one fong, both in one key ; 

As if our hands, our fides, voices, and minds, 

Had been incorp'rate. So we grew together, 

Like to a double cherry, feeming parted, 

But yet an union in partition ; 

Two lovely berries moulded on one flem; 

So with two feeming bodies,- but one heart ; 

Two of the ifirfrj like coats in heraldry, 

Due but to one, and crowned with one creft. 

And 



Cha*. VII. PATHETIC PIECES. 295 

And will you rend our ancient love afunder, 

"To join with men in fcorning your poor friend ? 

It is not friendly, 'tis not maidenly: 

Our fex, as well as I, may chide you for it, 

Though I alone do feel the injury. Shakspeare. 

CHAP. VII. 
BUCKINGHAM GOING TO EXECUTION", 

Buck. All good people, 
You that thus far have come to pity me, 
Hear what I fay, and then go home, and iofe me. 
I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment. 
And by that name muft die; yet, Heav'n bear witnefsj 
And if I have a confcience, let it fink me 
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful. 
To th' law I bear no malice for my death, 
S T has done, upon the prernifes, but juftice. 
But thofe tnat fought it, I could wifh more Chriftians. 
Be what they wall ; I heartily forgive 'em ; 
Yet let 'em look they glory not in mi (chief, 
Nor build their evils on the graves of great men ; 
For then my guiltlefs blood muft cry again ft 'em ; 
For further life in this world I ne'er hope, 
Nor will I fue, although the king have mercies 
More than I dare make faults. Yon few that lov'd mc, . 
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, 
His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave 
Is only bitter to him, only dying ; 
Go with me, like good angels, to my end : 
And as the long divorce of fteel falls on me, 
Make of your prayers one fweet facrifke, 
And lift- my foul to Heav'n. Lead on, o'God's name. 

Sir. T. Lovell. I do befeech your grace for charity, 
If ever any malice in your heart 
Were hid again ft me, now forgive me frankly. 

ButK. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you 

04 As 



296 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

As I would be forgiven. I forgive all. 
There cannot be thofe numberlefs offences 
'Gainfir me, I can't take peace with : no black envy 
Shall mark my grave. — Commend me to his Grace: 
And if he fpeak of Buckingham, pray tell him, 
; You met him half in Heaven: my vows and prayers 
Yet are the King's ; and, till my foul forfake me, , 
Shall cry for bleffings on him. May he live 
Longer than I have time to tell his years ! 
Ever belov'd and loving may his rule be ! 
And when old Time (hall lead him to his end, 
Goodnefs and he fill up one monument ! 

Lov. To th' water-fide I muft conduit your Grace, 
Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux, 
Who undertakes you to yo«r end. 
Sir N. Vaux. Prepare there, 
The Duke is coming : fee the barge be ready > 
And fit it with fuch furniture as fuits 
The greatnefs of his peribn. 

Buck: Nay, Sir Nicholas, 
Let it alone; my ftate now will but mock me. 
When I came hither, I was Lord High Conftable, 
And Duke of Buckingham ; now poor Edward Bohun. 
Yet am. I richer than my bafe accufers, 
That never knew what truth meant. I now feal it; 
And with that blood will make 'em oneway groan for't. 
My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, 
Who firft rais'd head agaihft ufurpirig Richard, 
Flying for fuccour to his fervant Banifter, 
Being diftreiTed, was by that wretch betray'd, 
And without trial fell : God's peace be with him. 
Henry the Sev'nth fucceeding, truly pitying 
My father's lofs, like a moil royal Prince 
Reilor'd to me my honours; and, from ruins, 
Made my name once more noble. Now his fon, 
Henry the Eighth^ life, honour, name, and all 
That made me happy, at one frroke has taken 

For 



Chap. VlII. PATHETIC PIECES. 297 

For ever from the world. I had my trial, 

And mull: needs fay, a noble one: which makes me 

A little happier than my wretched father. 

Yer thus far we are one in fortune; both 

Fell by our fervants, by t'hcfe men we Iov'd: 

A moil unnatural and faithlefs fervice 1 

Heav'n has an end in ail ; yet you that hear me, 

This from a dying man receive as certain : 

Where you are iib'ral of your loves and counfels, 

Be fare you be not loofe : thofe you make friends, 

And give your hearts to, when they once perceive 

The leaft rub in your fortunes, fall away. 

Like water from ye, never found again, 

But where they mean to fink ye. All good people, 

Pray for me ! I muit leave ye ; the lail hour 

Of my long weary life is come upon me. 

Farewell; and when you would fay r fomething fad, 

Speak how I fell. — I've done; and God forgive me ! 

Shakspeare; 

CHAP. VIII. 

SFORZA Duke of Milan pleading his Cause 
eefore the Emperor CHARLES V. 

Sforza. I Come not, Emperor,- t'invade thy mercy ? 
By fawning on thy fortune ; nor bring with me 
Excufes, or denials. I profefs 

(And with a good man's confidence, ev'n this inftant 
That I am in thy pow'r) I w r as thine enemy ; 
Thy deadly and vow'd enemy ; one that wiih'd. 
Confufion to thy perfon and eftates; 
And with my utmoft pow'rs and deepen: counfels, 
Had they been truly follow'd, further'd it : 
Nor will I now, although my neck were under 
The hangman's axe, with one poor fy liable 
Coniefs, but that I honour' d the French kin 
More than thyfelf, and all men. 

c Now 



£9& • PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

Now, give me leave 
(My hate againft thyfelf, and love to him 
Freely acknowledge!) to give up the reafons 
That made me fo afFe£led. In my wants 
I ever found him faithful: had fupplies* 
Of men and monies from him ; and my hopes, 
•Quite funk, were, by his grace, buoy'd up again- 
He was, indeed, to me as my good angel, 
To guard me from all dangers. I dare fpeak 
(Nay mufl and will) his praife now, in as high 
And loud a k^y, as when he was thy equal. 
The bereft* ts he fow'd in me, met not 
Unthankful gronn-d, but yielded him his own 
Wiih ''air increafe, and 1 flill glory in it. 
And, the igh my fortunes (poor, compar'd to his, 
And Milan, weigh'd with France, appear as nothing) 
Are in thy fury burnt ; let it be mentioo'd, 
They ferv'd but as fmall tapers to attend 
The iblemn flame at this great funeral ; 
And with them I will gladly- wafte myfelf, 
Rather than undergo the imputation 
Of being bafe or unthankful. 

If that, then, to be grateful 
For courtefies received, or not to leave 
A friend in his neeeffities, be a crime 
Amongft you- Spaniards, (which other nations 
That, like you, aim'd at empire, lov'd and cherifli'd 
Where'er they found it) Sforza brings his head 
To pay the forfeit. Nor come I as a Have, 
Pinion M and fetter'd, in a fqualid weed,. 
Falling before thy feet, kneeling and howling, - 
For a foreftull'd remifiion : that were poor, 
And would but mame thy viclory ; for conqueft 
Over bafe foes, is a captivity, 
And not a triumph. I ne'er fear'd to die, 
More than I wifli'd to live. "When I had reach'd 
My eads in being a duke, I wore thefe robes, 

This 



Chap. VIII. PATHETIC PIECES. 299 

This crown upon my head, and to my fide 

This fword was girt : and, witnefs truths that, now 

'Tis in another's power, when I mall part 

With them and life together, I'm the fame : 

My veins then did not fwell-with pride ; nor now 

They flirink for fear.— Know, Sir, that Sforza fiands 

Prepar'd for either fortune. 

But, if example 
Of my fidelity to the French (whofe honours. 
Titles, and glories, are now mix'd with yours ; 
As brooks devour'd by rivers, lofe their names) 
Has pow'rto invite you to make him a friend 
That hath given evident proof, he knows to love, 
And to be thankful, this my crown, now your's, 
You may reftore me, and in me inftruct 
Thefe brave commanders (mould your fortune change, . 
Which now I wifh not) what they may expect 
From noble enemies for being faithful. 
The charges of the war I will defray, 
And, what you may (not without hazard) force, 
Bring freely to you : I'll prevent the cries > 
Of murder'd infants, and of ravim'd maids, 
Which, in a city fack'd, call on Heaven 'sjumce, 
And Mop the courfe of glorious victories. 
And, when I know the captains and the foldiers, 
7'hat have in the late battle done beft fervice, 
And are to be rewarded, I myfelf, 
According to their quality and merits, 

Will fee tliem largely recompens'd. I'.ve. faid 3 , 

And now expect my fentence. 

Charles. Thou haft fo far 
Outgone my expectation, noble Sforza, 
(For fuch I hold thee) and true conflancy, 
Rais'd on a brave foundation, bears fuch palm 
And privilege with it, that, where we behold it ? . 
Though in.an enemy, it dees command us 
To love and honour it, — By my future hopes 

6 I'm 



300 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

I'm glad for thy fake", that, in feeking favour, 

Thou didft not borrow of Vice her indirect, 

Crooked, and abject means; and for mine own, 

That (fince my purpofes muft now be chang'd 

Touching my life and fortunes) the world cannot 

Tax me of levity in my fettled councils ; 

I being neither wrought by tempting bribes, * 

Nor fervile flattery ; but forc'd unto it 

By a fair war of virtue. 

All former paffages of hate be buried ; 
For thus with open arms I meet thy love, 
And as a friend embrace it ; and fo far 
I am from robbing thee of the leaf! honour, 
That with -my hands, to make it fit the fafter, 
I fet thy crown once more upon thy head ; . 
And do not only ftyle thee Duke of Milan, 
But vow to keep thee fo: yet, not to take 
From others ro give only to thyfelf, 
I will not hinder your magnificence 
To my commanders, neither will I urge it; 
But in that, as in all things elfe, I leave you 
To be your own difpofer. 

Massinger. 

CHAP. IX. 
FAULCONBRIDGE and KING JOHN. 

Faulc- All Kent hath yielded, nothing there holds out 
But Dover Caftle : London hath receiv'd, 
Like a kind bolt, the Dauphin and his pow r rs. 
Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone 
To offer fervice to your enemy ; 
And wild amazement hurries up and down 
The little number of your doubtful friends. 

K. John. Would not my lords return to me again, 
After they heard young Arthur was alive ? 

Faulc. They found him dead, and call into the ftreets, 
An empty cafket, where the jewel, life, 
By fome damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away. 

K. John, 



Chap. IX. PATHETIC PIECES. 3 ot 

K. John. That villain Hubert told me he did live ! 
Faulc. So on my foul he did, for aught he knew. 
But wherefore do ye droop ? why look you fad? 
Be great in acL as you have been in thought ; 
Let not the world fee fear and fad difrruft 
Govern the motion of a kingly eye: 
Be ilirring as the time : be fire with fire ; 
Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow 
Of bragging horror : fo (hall inferior eyes, 
That borrow their behaviours from the great, 
Grow great by your example, and put on 
The dauntlefs fpirit of refolution. 
Away, and glifler like the god of war, 
When he intendeth to 'become the field; 
Show boldnefs and a f pi ring confidence. 
What, fliall they feek the lion in his den, 
And fright him there ? and make him tremble there? 
» Oh, let it not be faid ! Forage, and run 
To meet Difpleafure farther from the doors; 
And grapple with him ere he come fo nigh. 

K. John. The Legate of the Pope hath been with.rae* 
And I have made a happy peace with him ; 
And he hath promis'd to difmifs the powers 
"Led by the Dauphin. 

Faulc. Oh inglorious league ! 
Shall we, upon the footing of our land, 
Send fair-play orders, and make compromife ? 
Infmuation, parley, and bafe truce, 
To arms invafive ? Shall a beardlefs bov, 
A cocker'd filken wanton, brave our fields, 
And flafli his fpirit in a warlike foil, 
Mocking the air with colours idly fpread, 
, And find no check ? Let us, my Liege, to arms : 
Perchance the Cardinal can't make your peace : 
Or if he do, let it at leaft be faid, 
They faw we had a purpofe of defence. 

K. John. 



302 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

K. John. Have thou the ord'ring of this prefent time, 
Faulc. Away then with good courage ; yet I know 

Our party may well meet a prouder foe. 

Shakspeare. 

CHAP. X. 

BRUTUS and TITUS. 

Brut. Well, Titus, fpeak ; how is it with thee now^ 
I would attend awhile this mighty motion, 
Wait till the tempeft were quite overblown, 
That I may take thee in the calm of nature, 
With all thy gentler virtues brooding on thee, 
So huftVd a ftillnefs, as if all the gods 
Look'd down, and liflen'd to what we were faying; 
Speak then, and tell me, Omy beft belov'd, 
My (oiiy my Titus, is all well again ? 

Tit. So well, that faying how muft make it nothing ; 
So well, that I could wifli to die this moment, 
For fo my heart with powerful throbs perfuades me: 
That were indeed to make you reparation. 
That were, my lord, to thank you home, to die; 
And that for Titus too, would be moil happy. 

Brut. How's that, my fon i Would death for thee be 
happy ? 

Tit. Moll certain, Sir; for in my grave I 'fcape 
All thofe affronts which I in life muft look for, 
All thofe reproaches which the eyes, and fingers, 
And tongues of Rome will daily call upon me : 
From whom, to a foul fo fenfible as mine, 
Eacji fingle fcorn would be far worfe than dying : 
Befides, I 'fcape the flings of my own confcience, 
Which will for ever rack me with remtmbrance, 
Haunt me by day, and torture me by night, 
Calling my blotted honour in the way 
Where'er my melancholy thoughts fhall guide me. 

Bru t. But is not death a very dreadful thing ? 

Tit. 



Chap. X. PATHETIC PIECES. 303 

Tit. Not to a mind refolv'd. No, Sir,' to me 
It feems as natural as "to be born : 
Groans, and convulfions, and difcoldur'd faces, 
Friends weeping round us, blacks and obfequies, 
Make it a dreadful thing ; the pomp of death 
Is far more terrible than death itfelf. 
Yes, Sir, I call fhe'pow'rs of Heav'n to witnefs, 
Titus dares die, if fo you have decreed ; 
Nay, he (hall die with joy, to honour Brutus, 
To make your juftice famous through the world, 
And fix the liberty of Rome for ever : 
Not but I muft confefs my weafcrieTs too: 
Yet it is great thus to refolve againft it, 
To have the frailty of a mortal man, 
But the fecuritv of th' immortal gods. 

Brut. O Titas ! O thou abfolute young man ! 
Thou fbtt'ring mirror of thy father's image, 
Where I behold myfeif at ftrch advantage! 
Thou perfect glory of the Junian race ! 
Let me endear thee once more to my bofom, 
Groan an eternal farewell to thy foul : 
Inftead of tears weep Wood, if poffible, 
JBlood, the heart blood of Brutus, on his child; 
For thou mult die, my Titus, die, my fon; 
I fwear the gods have doora'd thee to the grave : 
The violated Genius of thy country 
Bears his fadliead, and pafSesTentence on thee: 
This morning fun that lights my forrows on 
To the tribunal of this horrid vengeance, 
Shall never fee thee more. 

Tit. Alas, my Lord! 
Why are you mov'd thus ? Why am I worth your forrow ? 
Why mould the god-like Brutus fhake to doom me ? 
'Why all thefe trappings for a traitor's hearfe ? 
The gods will have it fo» 

Brut. They will, my Titus : 
Nor Heav'n, nor earth, can have it othenvife. 

Nay, 






3 04 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII 

Nny, Titus, mark ; the deeper that I fearch, 

My h-arafs'd foul returns the more confirmed: 

Methinks I fee the very hand of Jove 

Moving the dreadful wheels of this affair, 

That whirl thee, like a machine, to thy fate. 

It feems as if the gods had pre-ordain'd it, 

To fix the reeling fpirits of the, people, 

And fettle the loofe liberty of Rome. 

5 Tis fix'd, .O therefore let not fancy fond thee : 
. So fix'd, thy death, that 'tis not in the power 

Of gods or men to favethee from the axe. 

Tit. The axe ! O Heav'n! then mull I fall (o bafely ? 

What, fhall I perifh by the common hangman ? 
Brut. If thou deny' me this, thou giv'ft me nothing. 

Yes, Titus, fince the gods have fo decreed 
' That I mud: lofe thee, I will take th' advantage 

Of thy important fate, cement Rome's flaws, 

And heal her wounded freedom with thy blood : 

I will afcend myfelf the fad tribunal, 

And fit upon my fon's; on thee, my Titus: 

Behold thee fuffer all the (hame of death, 

The lienor's la flies, bleed before the people ; 

Then with thy hopes, and all thy youth upon thee, 

See thy head taken by the common axe, 

Without a groan, without one pitying tear, 

If that the gods can hold me to my purpofe, 

To make my juftice quite tranfeend example. 
s Tit. Scourg'd like a bondman I ha ! a beaten (lave I 

But I deferve it all ; yet here I fail ; 

The image of this fuii'ring quite unmans me; 

Nor can I longer flop the gufhing tears. 

O Sir! O- Brutus ! mail I call you father, 

Yet have no token of your teiidemef3 ? 

No fign of mercy ? What, not bate me that f 

Can you refolve, O all th' extremity 

Of cruel rigour ! to behold me too ? 

To fit unmov'd, and fee me whipp'd to death ? 

Where 






Chap. X. PATHETIC PIECES. 3°5 

Where are your bowels now ? Is this a father ? 
, Ah, Sir, why mould you make my heart fufpecT: 
That all your late companion was diflembled ? 
How can I think that you did ever love me ? 

Brut. Think that I love thee my by prefent pafllon, 
By thefe unmanly tears, thefe earthquakes here, 
Txhefe fighs that twitch the very firings of life ; 
Think that no other caufe on earth could move me 
To tremble thus, to fob, or filed a tear, 
Nor make my folid virtue from her point, 
But Titus' death: O do not call it fliamefu'l, • 
That this (hall fix the glory of the world. _ 
I own thy fufFrings ought t' unman me thus, 
To make me throw my body on the ground, 
To bellow likeabeaft, to gnaw the earth, 
To tear my hair, to curfe the cruel fates 
That force a father thus to drag his bowels. 

Tit. O rife thou violated majefty, 
Rife from the earth, or I fhall beg thofe fates 
Which you 'would curfe, to bolt me to the centre. 
I now fubmit to all your threaten'd vengeance: 
Come forth, you executioners of juftice, 
Nay, all you lienors, flaves, and common hangmen, 
Come, flrip me bare, unrobe me in his fi ght, 
And lafli me till I bleed, whip me lik 5 furies; 
And when you've fcourg'd me till I foam and fali> 
For want of (pints groveling m the daft, 
Then take my, head, and give it his revenge: 
'By all the gods I greedily refign it. 

Brut. No more, farewell, eternally farewell: 
If there be go ts, they wilL refer ve a room, 
A throne for thee in Heav'n. One laft embrace* 
What is it makes thy eyes thusfwim again ? 

Tit. I had forgot:.- be- good to Tereminta 
When lam in afhes. 

B rut. Leave her to my care. 
See her thou mufbnot, for thou can'ft not bear it. 

G for 



306 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

for one more, this tug of heart firings ; 
Farewell for ever. 

Tit. O Braitus ! O my -father I 
Brut. Canft thou not fay farewell ? 
Tit. Farewell for ever. 

Brut. For ever then j but O my tears rtin'o'er : 
Groans choke my words, and I can fpeak no more. 

Lie. 

CHAP. XI. 

SEBASTIAN and DORAX. 

Reenter Do rax, having taken off his Turban, and put on v 
'European Habit. 

Dor ax. Now do you know me ? 
Sebastian. Thoufhould'ft be AlonzOr 
Dor. So you fhould be Sebaftian : 
But when Sebaftian ceas'd to be himfelf, 

1 ceasM to be Alonzo. 

Ssb. As in a dream 
I fee thee here, and fcarce believe mine eyes. 

Dor.. Is it fo ftrange to find me where my wrongs* 
And your inhuman tyranny, have fent me ? 
Think not you dream : or, if you did, my injuries 
Shall call fo loud, that lethargy fhould wake ; 
And death mould give you back to anfwer me. 
A thoufand nights have brufh'd their balmy wings 
Over thefe eyes ; but ever when they clos'd, 
Your tyrant image fcrc'd them ope again, 
And dry'd the dews they brought. 
The long-expeded hour is come at length, 
By manly vengeance to redeem my fame: \ 

And that once clearVj, eternal fleep is welcome. 

See. I have not yet forgot I am a king, 
Whofe royal office is redrefs of wrongs : 
If I have wrong'd thee, charge me face to face; 
I have not yet forgot I am a foldier. 

Dor 



Chap. XI. - PATHETIC PIECES. 307 

Dor. 'Tis the firft juftice thou haft ever done me : 
Then though I loathe this woman's war of tongues, 
Yet (hall my caufe of vengeance firft be clear; 
And, Honour, be thou judge. 

Seb. Honour befriend us both. 
Beware, I warn thee yet, to tell thy griefs 
In terms becoming maje.ay to hear; 
I warn thee thus, becaufe I know thy temper 
Is infolent and haughty to fuperiors ; 
How often haft thou brav'd my peaceful court, 
Fill'd it with noify brawls, and windy boafts; 
And, with pafl fervice, naufeoufly repeated, 
Reproach'd even me thy prince ? 

Dor. And well I might, when you forgot reward, 
The part of Heav'n in kings: for punifhment 
Is hangman's work, and drudgery for devils. 
I mult, and will reproach thee with my fervice, 
Tyrant, (it irks me fo to call my prince) 
But juft refentment and hard ufage coin'd 
Th* unwilling word, and grating as it is, 
Take it, for it is thy due. 

Seb. How, Tyrant! 

Dor. Tyrant ! 

Seb. Traitor ! that name thou canft not echo back l 
That robe of 'infamy, that circumciiion 
111 hid beneath that robe, proclaim thee traitor: 
And, if a name 
More foul than traitor be, 'tis renegade. 

Dor, If I'm a traitor, think, and blufh, thou tyrant,; 
Whofe injuries betray *cf me into treafon, 
Effac'd my loyalty, unhing'd my faith, 
And burry'd me from hopes of Heav'n to Hell ; 
All thefe, and all my yet unfinifh'd crimes, 
When I mall rife to plead before the faints, 
I charge on thee to make thy damning Aire. 

• Seb. Thy old prefumptuous arrogance again, 
That bred my firft diflike, and then my loathing. 
Once more be warn'd, and know me for thy king. 

Dor, 



3.o8 ?ATHETIC PIECES. Book VII, 

Dor. Too well I know t'nee, but for king no more: 
This is not Lifbon, nor the circle this, 
Where, like a ftatue, thou haft flood befieg'd 
By fycophahts, and fools, the growth of courts; 
Where thy gull'd eyes, H^ all 'the gaudy round, 
Met nothing but a lie inevery face; 
And the grofs flattery of a gaping crowd, 
Envious who firft lhould catch, and firft applaud 
The fluff of royal honfehfe : when I fpoke, 
My honeft homely words were carp'd, and cenfur'd, 
For want of courtly ftyle : related actions, 
Though mod'eftty reported, pajs'd forboafts: 
Secure of merit, if I afk'd reward, 
Thy hungry minions thought their rights invaded, - 
And the bread fnatch'd from pimps and parafites. 
Henriquez anfwer'd, with a ready lie, 
To fave his king's, the boon was begg'd before. 

Seb. What fay 'ft thou of Henriquez ? Now, by Heav'n 
Thou mov'ft me more by barely naming him, 
Then all thy foul unman ner'd fcurril taunts. 

Dor. And therefore 'twas to gall thee that I nam'd him, 
That thing, that nothing, bat a cringe and fmiie ; 
That woman, but more daub'd ; or, if a man, 
Corrupted to a woman; thy man-miftrefs. 

Seb. All falfeashell, or thou. 

Dor. Y,es ; full as falfe 
As that I ferv'd thee fifteen hard campaigns, 
And pitch'd thy ftandard in thofe foreign fields : 
By me thy greatnefs grew, thy years grew with it; 
But thy ingratitude outgrew them both. 

Seb. I fee to what thou tend'fl ; but tell me firft, 
If thofe great a£ls were done alone for me ; 
If love produe'd not fome, and pride the reft ? 

Dor. Why, love does all that's noble here below : 
But all th' advantage of that love was thine : 
For, coming fraughted back, in either ha;id 

With 



Chap. XL PATHETIC PIECES. 309 

With palm and olive, victory and peace, 

I was indeed prepar'd to afk my own, 

(For Violante s vows were mine before :) 

Thy malice had prevention, ere I fpoke ; 

And afk'd me Violante for Kenriquez. 

Seb. I meant thee a re,ward of greater worth. 
Dor. Where juflice wanted, could reward be hop'd? 
Could the robb'd paffenger expecT a bounty 
From thofe rapacious hands who flripp'd him firft ? 
Seb. He had my promife ere I knew thy love. 
Dor. My fervices deferv'd thou mould'!* revoke it. 
' Seb. Thy infolence had cancell'd all thy fervice; 
To violate my laws, even in my court, 
Sacred to peace, and fafe from all affronts ; 
Ev'n to my face, and done in my defpite, 
Under the wing of awful majefty, 
To ftrike the man I lov'd ! 

Dor.. Ev'n in the face of Heav'n, a place more facred, 
Would I have ftruck the man, who, propp'd by pow'r, 
-Would feize my right, and rob me of my love; 
But, for a blow provok'd by thy injuftice, 
The halty product of a juft defpair, 
When he refus'd to meet me in the field, 
That thou fhould'ft make a coward's caufe thy own ? 

Seb. Pie durft : nay, more, de^ir'd and begg'd with tears, 
To meet thy challenge fairly : 'twas thy fault 
To make it public ; but my duty, then 
To interpofe, on pain of my diipleafure, 
Betwixt your fwords. 

Dor. On pain of infamy, 
He fhould have difobev'd. 

Seb. Th' indignity thou didft was meant to me ; 
Thy gloomy eyes were cafl on me with fcorn, 
As who mould fay, the blow was there intended ; 
But that thou didfl not dare to lift thy hands 
Againft anointed pow'r : — — fc was I forc'd 
To do a fovereign juflice to myfelf, 
And fpnrn thee from my prefence, 

Dor. 






310 PATHETIC PIECES. Boor Vlh 

Dor. Thou haft dar'd 
To tell me, what I durfi not tell myfelf : 
Idurft not think that I was fpurn'd, and live; 
And live to hear it beaded to my face ; 
All my long avarice of honour loft, 
Heap'd up in youth, and hoarded up for age; 
Has Honour's fountain then fuck'd back the ftream ? 
He has ; and hooting boys may dry mod pafs, 
And gather pebbles from the naked ford. 

Give me my love, my honour ; give them back 

Give me revenge, while I have breath to afk it 

Seb. Now by this honour'd order which I wear, 
More gladly would I give than thou'dar'ft afk it*——* 
Nor fhall the facred character of king 
Be urg'd to fliield me. from thy bold appeal. 
If I have injnr'd thee, that makes us equal : 
The wrong, if done, debas'd me down to thee. 
But thou haft charg'd me with ingratitude ; 
Haft thou not charg'd me ? Speak, 

Dor. Thou know'ft I have: 
If thou difown'ft that imputation, draw, 
And prove my charge a lie. 

Sub. No: to difprove that lie I muft not draw: 
Be confeious to thy worth, and tell thy foul 
What thou haft done this day in my defence : 
To fight thee, after this, what were it elfe 
Than owning that ingratitude thou urgeft ? 
That iithmus Hands between two milling feas ; 
Which mounting, view each other from afar, 
And ftrive in vain to meet. 

Dor. 1'il cut that ifthmus.: 

Thou know'ft I meant not to preferve thy life, 
But to reprieve it, for my own revenge. 
I fav'd thee out of honourable malice : 
Now draw ; I fliould be loath to think thou dar'ft not ; 
Beware of fuch another vile excufe. 

$£B. 






Chap. XL PATHETIC PIECES. , 311 

Seb. O, patience, Heav'n ! 
Dor. Beware of patience too ; 
That's a fufpicious word : it had been proper, 
Before thy foot had fpurntt me ; now 'tis bafe : 
Yet to difarrn thee of thy laft defence, 
I have thy oath for my fecurity ; 
The only boon I begg'd was this fair combat : 
Fight, or be perjur'd now ; that's all thy choice. 

Seb. Now can I thank thee as thou would'it. be thank 'd : 
Never was vow of honour better paid, [Drawing. 

Bf my true fvvord but hold, than this fhall be. 
The fpnghtly bridegroom on his wedding night, 
(More gladly enters not the lifts of love. 
Why 'tis enjoyment to be fummon'd thus. 
Go ; bear my meflage to Henriquez' ghoft ; 
And fay his mafter and his friend reveng'd him. 
Dor. His ghoft ! then is my hated rival dead ? 
Seb. The queftion is belide our prefent purpofe ; - 
Thou fee'ft me ready; we delay too long. 

Dor. A minute is not much in either's life, 
When there's but one betwixt us ; throw it in, * 
And give it him of us who is to fall. 

Sas. He's dead: make hade, and thou may'fl yet 

o'ertake him. 
Dor. • When I was hafty, thou delay'ft me longer. 
r'ythee let me hedge one moment more 
to thy promife : for thy life preferv'd, 
Be kind ; and tell me how that rival died, 
Whofe death next thine I wiili'd. 

Seb. If it would pleafe thee, thou ihould'ft never know: 
But thou, like jealoufy, inquir'fl a truth, 
Which found will torture thee: he died iri nVht: 
Fought next my ptrfon ; as in concert fought : 
Kept pace for pace, and blow for every blow; 
Save when he heav'd his fhieldin my defence, 
Aiid on his naked fide receiv'd my wound : 
Then when he could no more, he feii at once, 

But 



3 i2 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

But roll'd his falling body crofs their way, 
And made a bulwark of it for his prince. 

Dor. I never can forgive him fuch a death ! 

Seb. I prophefied thy proud foul could not bear it. 
Now judge thy felf, who beft. defer v'd my love. 
I knew you both; and (durfl I fay) as Heav'n < 
Foreknew among the mining angel hoft 
Who fhould fland firm, who fall. 

Dor. Had he been tempted fo, fo had he fali'n; 
And fo, had I been favour'd, had I flood. 

Seb. What had been, is unknown; what is, appears; 
" Confefshejuflly waspreferr'd to thee. 

Dor. Had I been born with his indulgent ftars, 
My fortune had been his, and his been mine. 
Oh, worfe than Hell! what glory have I loft, 
And what has he-acquir'd by fuch a death ! 
I fhould have fallen by Sebaftian's fide, 
My corpfe had been the bulwark of my king: 
His glorious end was a parch 'd work of Fate, 
Ill-forted with a fofc effeminate life: 
It fuited better with my life than his 
So to -have died : mine had been of a piece, 
Spent in your fervice, dying at your feet. 

"Seb. The' more effeminate and foft his life, 
The more his fame, to toggle to the field, 
And meet his glorious fate : confefs, proud fpirit, 
(For I will have it from thy very mouth) 
That better he deferv'd my love than thou. 

Dor,- Oh whither would you drive me ! I mufl grant, 
Yes, I mufl grant, but with a f welling foul, 
Henriquez had your love with more defert: 
For you he fought and died ; I fought againft you ; 
Through all the mazes of, the bloody field, 
Hunted your facred life ; which that 1 mifs'd, 
Was the propitious errour of my fate, 
Not of my foul; my foul's a regicide. 

Seb. Thou iriight'ft have given it a more gentle name? 

Thou 



Chap. XI. PATHETIC PIECES. 313 

Thou mean'ft to kill a tyrant, not a king. 
Speak, didft thou nor, Alonzo? 

Dor. Can I fpeak ! 
Alas, I cannot anfwer to Alonxo : 
No, Dorax cannot anfwer to Alonzo; 
Alonzo was too kind a name for me. 
Then, when I fought and conquer'd with your arms. 
In that bleft age I was the man you nam'd ; 
Till rage and pride debas'd me into Dorax : 
And loft, like Lucifer, my name above. 

Seb. Yet twice this day I ow'd my life to Dorax. 

Dor. I fav'd you but to kill you : there's my grief, 

Seb. Nay, if thou can'ft be griev'd, thou can'ft repent. 
Thou could'il not be a villain, though thou would'ft ; 
Thou ownTt too much in owning thou haft err'd ; 
And I too little, who provok'd thy crime. 

Dor. Oh, ftop this headlong torrent of your goodnefb ; 
Jt comes too faft upon a feeble foul, 
Half drown'd in tears before ; fpare my confufion ; 
For pity fpare, and fay not, firft you efr'<n 
For yet I have not dar'd, through guilt and fhame, 
To throw my ft If beneath y pur royal feet. 
Now fpurn this rebel, this proud renegade; 
"Fis juft you fhould, nor will i more complain. 

Seb. Indeed thou ftiould'it not afk forgivenefs firft 
But thou prevem'ft me ftill in all that's noble. 
Yes, I will raife thee up with better news : 
Thy Violante's heart was ever thine ; 
Compeil'd to wed, .becaufe file wa$ my ward, 
Her foul was abfent when fhe gave her hand : 
Nor could my threats, or his purfuing courtfhip, 
Effect the eonfummation of his love ; 
So, ftill indulging tears, fhe pines for thee, 
A widow and a maid. 

Dor . Have 1 been -cuffing Heav'n, while Heav'n bleft me ! 
I (hall run mad with etftafy of joy 1 
What, in on? moment, to be reconcile 



',14 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

To Heav'n and to my king, and to my love ! 
But pity is my friend, and flops me fhort, 
For my unhappy rival. Poor Henriquez ! 

Seb. Art thou fo generous too, to pity him? 
Nay, then I was unjuft to love him better. 
Here let me ever hold thee in my arms ; 
And all our quarrels be but fuch as thefe, 
Who mall love bell, and clofeft fliall embrace : 
Be what Henriquez was: be my Alonzo ! 

Dor. What, my Alonzo, faid you? My Alonzo ! 
Let my tears thank you ; for I cannot fpeak; 
And if I couldj 
'Words were not made to vent fuch thoughts as mine. 

Seb. Thou can'ft not fpeak, and I can ne'er be filent. 
Some frrange reverfe of fate muft fure attend 
This vaft profufiort, this extravagance 
Of Heav'n to blefs me thus. 'Tis gold fo pure, 
It cannot bear the ftamp, without allay. 
Be kind, ye pow'rs, and take but half away: 
With eafe the gifts of Fortune I refign ; 
But let my love, and friend, be ever mine. Dry den. 

CHAP. XII. 
ANTONY and VENTIDIUS. 

Ant. They tell me 'tis my birth-day, and I'll keep it 
With double pomp of -fadnefs. 
'Tis what the day deferves which gave me breath. 
Why was I rais'd the meteor of the world, 
Hung in the (kies, and blazing as I travell'd, 
Till all my fires were fpent, and then caft downwards 
To be trod out by Casfar r 

Vent. [Afide.] On my foul 
'Tis mournful, wondrous mournful i 

Ant. Count thy gains, 
Now, Antony, wouldft thou be born for this, 

Glutton 



Chap. XII. PATHETIC PIECES. 315; 

Glutton of fortune, thy devouring youth 
Has ftarv'd thy wanting age. 

Vent. \Afide\ How forrow fliakes him ! 
So now the tempeft tears him up by th' roots, 
And on the ground extends the noble ruin. 

Ant. {Having thrown himf elf down.] Lie there, thou 
fhadow of an emperor; 
The place thou prefleft on thy mother earth 
Is all thy empire now : now it contains thee ; 
Some few days hence, and then 'twill he too large, 
When thou'rt contracted in thy narrow urn, 
Shrunk to a few cold afhes ; then Odavia, 
(For Cleopatra will not live to fee it) 
Octavia then will have thee all her own, 
And bear thee in her widbw'd hand to Ca?far. 
Csefar will weep ; the crocodile will weep, 
To fee his rival of the uni verfe 
Lie ftili and peaceful there. I'll think no more on't. 
Give me fome mufic ; look that it be fad. 
I'll foothe my melancholy till I fwell, 

And burft myfelf with fighing 

'Tis fomewhat to my humour. Stay, I fancy 

Fm now -tuni'd wild, a commoner of nature; 

Of all forfaken, and forfaking all ; 

Live in a fhady foreft's fylvan fcene, 

Stretch'd at my length beneath fome blafled oak, 

I lean my head upon the mofly bark, & 

And look juft of a piece, as I grew from it: 

My uncomb'd locks, matted like miftletoe, pe». 

Hang o'er my hoary face; a murm'ring brook. 

Runs at my foot 

Vent. Methinks, I fancy. 
Myfelf there too. 

Ant, The herd come jumping by me, 
And fearlefs quench their tbirit, while I look on,. 
And take me for their fellow-citizen. 
More of this image, more; it lulls my thoughts.. < 

-f*NT, 



3i6 BATHETIC PIECES. Boox VII. 

Vent. I mult difturb him. I can hold no longer. 

[S'arJs btfoie him. 

Ant. [Starting up.'] Art thou Ventidius? 

Vent. Are you Antony ? 
I'm liker what I was, than you to him 
1 4eft you lad. 

Ant. I'm angry. 

Vent. So am I. 

Ant. I would be private. Leave me. 

Vent. Sir, I love you, 
And therefore will not leave you. 

Ant. Will not leave me ! 
Where have you learnt that anfwer? Who am !*$ 

Vent. My emperor ; the man I love next Heav'n. 
If I faid more, I think 'twere fcarce a fin: 
You're all that's good, and godlike. 

Ant. All that's wretched. 
You will not leave me then ? 

Vent. 'Twns too prefuming 
To fay I would not : but I dare not leave you ; 
And 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence 
So foon, when I fo far have come to fee you. 

Ant. Now thou haft feen me, art thou fatisfledr 
For if a friend, thou haft beheld enough, 
And, if a foe, too much. 

Vent. Look, emperor, this is no common dew 9 
I have not wept this forty years; but now 
My mother comes afrefli into my «yes; 
I cannot help her foftnefs. 

Ant. By Heav'n he weeps, poor good old man, he weeps * 
The big round drops courfe one another down 
The furrows of his cheeks. Stop 'em, Ventidius, 
Or I fliall blufli to death ; they fet my fliame, 
Tha' caus'd 'em full before me. 

Vznt. I'll do my beft, 

Ant. Sure there's contagion in the tears of friends: 
See I have caught it too. Believe me, 'tis not 

Sat my own griefs, but thine Nay, father—- 

Vent, 



Chap. XII. PATHETIC PIECES. 3*7" 

Yen t. Emperor I 

Ant. Emperor! Why that's the ftyle of viclory. 
The conqu'ring foldier, red with unfelt wounds, 
Salutes his general fo : but never more 
Shall that found reach my ears. 
Ven v t. I warrant yon. 
Ant. Actium, A&min ! Oh— 
Vent. It fits too near you* 
Ant. Here, here it lies; a lump cf lead by day|- 
And in my fnort, diiWkd, nightly flumbci*, 
The hag that rides my dreams- ■ 
Vent. Out with it; give it vent. 
Ant. Urge not my fhame— 
I loll a battle. 

Vent. So has Julius done. 

A»T, Th >u favour' ft me, and fpeak'ft not half thou 
thiak'ft ; 
For Julius fought it out and loft it fairly : 

But Antony 

Vent. Nay,, flop not. ' 
Ant. Antony, 
(Well, thou wilt have it) like a coward, fled,- 
Fled while his foldiers fought ! fled firit, Ventidius* 
Thou longft to curie me, and I give thee leave. 
I know thou cam' ft prepared to rail. 
Vent. I did. 
Ant. I'll help thee— I've been a man, Ventidius.- 

Vent. Yes, and a brave one; but 

Ant. I know thy meaning. 
But I have loft my reafon, have difgrae'd 
The name. of foldier with inglorious eafe. 
In the full vintage of my flowing honours, 
Sate dill, and faw it prefs'd by other hands. 
Fortune came mailing to my youth, and woo'd it, 
And purple greatnefs met my ripened years. 
When firit I came to empire I was"borne 

P3 \ s On 



pt PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

On ric'es of People, crowding to my triumphs, 

The wi(h of nations, and the willing world 

Receiv'd me as its pledge of future peace. 

1 was fo great, fo happy, fo belovM, 

Fate could not ruin me ; till I took pains, 

And work'd againil.my fortune, chid her from me, 

And turn'd her loofe : yet Hill fhe came again. 

My carelefs days, and my luxurious nights, 

At length have wearied her, and now {lie's gone, 

Gone, gone, divore'd for ever. Help me, foldier, 

To curie this madman, this indubious fool, 

Who labour'd to be 1 wretched. Prithee, curfe me. 

Vent. No. 

Ant. Why ? 

Vent. You are too fenfible already 
Of what you've done ; too confeious of your failings ; 
And like a fcorpion, whipp'd by others firft 
To fury, (ling yourfelf in mad revenge. 
I would bring balm, and pour it in your wounds, 
Cure your diftemper'd mind, and heal your fortunes. 

Ant. I know thou would'fh 

Vent. I will. 

Ant. Ha, ha, ha, ha. 

Vent. You laugh. 

Ant. I do, to fee officious love 
Give cordials to the dead. 

Vent. You would be loft then ? 

Ant. I am. 

Vent. I fay you are not. Try your fortune. 

Ant. I have to th' utmoft. Doit thou think me defperate 
Without juft caufe ? No, when I found all loft 
Beyond repair, I hid me from the world, 
And learnt to fcorn it here; which now I do 
So heartily, I think it is not worth 
The coft of keeping. 

Vent. Caefar thinks not fo : 
Jle'll thank you for the gift he could not take. 

3 You, 



Chap. XII. PATHETIC PIECES. 519 

You would be kill'd, like Tully, would you ? Do 
Hold out your throat to Casfar, and die tamely. 

Ant. No, I can kill myfelf ; and (o refolve. 

Vent. I can die with you too, when time mail ferve $ 
But fortune calls upon us -now to live, 
To fight, to conquer. 

Ant. Sure thou drcam'ft, Ventidins! 

Vent. No ; 'tis you dream ; you fleepaway your hours. 
In defperate floth, mifcalled philofophy.' 
Up, up, for honour's fake ; twelve legions, wait you, 
And long to call you chief. By painful journeys 
I led 'em, patient both of heat and hunger, 
Down from the Parthian marches to the Nile. 
'Twill do you good to fee their fun-burnt faces, 
Their fcarr'd cheeks,and chopp'd hands ; there's virtue in em 1 
They'll fell thofe mangled limbs at dearer rates 
Than yon trim bands can buy. 

Ant. Where left you them ? ' 

Vent. I fay, in Lower Syria, 

Ant. Bring 'em hither 5 
There may be life in thefe. 

Vent. They will not come. 

Ant. Why did'ft thou mock my hopes with proixris'd aids, 
To double my defpair ? They're mutinous. 

Vent. Moft firm and loyal. 

Ant. Yet they will not march 
To fuccour me. Oh, trifler ! 

Vent. They petition 
You would make hafte to head 'em. 

Ant. I'm befieg'd. 

Vent. There's but one way fhut up— How cam'e I 
hither ? 
'Ant. I will not ftir. 

Vent. They would perhaps defi- 
A better reafon. 

Ant. I have never usM 
My foldiers to demand a reafon of 
My actions. Why did they refufe to march i 



•&»- 



3«o BATHETIC PIECES. Book VII: 

Vent. They faid they would not fight- for Cleop.tra. 

Aht. What was '!:, they faid r 

Ven r. They faid they would not fight for Cleopatra. 
Why mould they fight, indeed, to make her conquer, 
And make you more a flave ? To gain you kingdoms, 
Which for a kifs, at your next midnight feaft, 
You'll fell to her? — Then (lie new names her jewels 
And calls this diamond ftrch or fiich a tax j 
Each pendant in her ear (hall be a province. 

Ant. Ventidius, I allow your tongue free licence 
On all my other faults; but, on your life, 
.No word of Cleopatra : me deferves 
Mare workis than I can lofe. 

Vsnt. Behold, you powVs, 
To whom you have intruded human kind ; 
See Europe, Afric, Afia, put in balance : 
And all weigh'd down by one light, worthlefs woman 1 
I think the gods are Antonies, and give, • 
Like prodigals, this nether world away 
To none but wafteful hands. 

Ant. You grow prefumptuous. 

Vent. I take the privilege of plain ldve to fpeak. 

Ant. Plain love ! plain arrogance, plain infolence \ 
Thy men are cowards, thou an envious traitor ; 
Who, under feeming hone'fty, hail 'vented 
The burden of thy rank o'erilowing gall. 

that thou weft my equal i great in arms 
As the jfirft Caefa'r was, that I might kill thee 
Without ftain to my honour ! 

Vent. You may kill me, 
You have done more already ; call'd me traitor. 

Ant. Art thou not one? 

Vent* For mowing you yourfelf, 
Which none elfe durft have done. But had I beet*. 
That name, which I difdain to fpeak again, 

1 needed not have fought your abject fortunes, 
Come to partake your fate, to die with you. 

4 v W bat 



Chap. XII. PATHETIC PIECES. 321 

What hinder'd me to've led my conqu'ring eagles, 
To fill Octavius' bands? I could have been 
A traitor then, a glorious happy traitor, 
And not have been fo call'd. , 

Ant. Forgive me, foldier I 
I've been too paflionate. 

Vent. You thought me falfe ; 
Thought my old age betray \i you. Kill me, Sir ! 
Pray kill me; yet, you need not, your unkindnefs 
Has left your fword no work. 

Ant. I did not think fo; 
I faid it in my rage : prithee, forgive me : 
Why didft thou tempt my anger, by difcovery 
Of what I would not hear ? 

Vent. No prince but you 
Could merit that fincerity I us'd, 
Nor durft another man have ventur'd it ; 
But you, ere love mifled your wand'ring eyes,- 
Were fure the chief and beft of human race, 
Fram'd in the very pride and boafl of nature. 

Ant. But Cleopatra 

Go on ; for I can bear it now. - 

Vent. No more. 

Ant. Thou dar'ft not truftrrry paflkm; but thou may' ft, 
Thou only lov'fi ;. the reft have flatter'd me. 

Vent. Heaven's bieifing, on your heart for that kind 
May I believe you lore me ? Speak again. [word. 

Ant. Indeed I do. Speak this, and this, and this. 
Thy praifes were unjuft ; but I'll deferve 'em, 
And yet mend all. Do with me what thou wilt : 
Lead me to victory, thou -know'ft the way. 

Vjtnt.. And will you leave this 

Ant, Prithee, do not curfe her, 
And I will leave her; though, Heav'n knows, I love 
Beyond life, conqueft, empire, all, but honour : 
But I will leave her. 

*5 Vent. 



322 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII, 

Vent. That's my royal mafter ! 
And fhall we fight ? 

Ant. I warrant thee, old foldier; 
Thou (halt behold me once again in iron, 
And, at the head of our old troops that beat 
The Parthians, cry aloud, Come, follow me. 

Vent. Oh, now I hear my emperor ! In that word 
Oclavius fell. Gods! let me fee that day, 
And, if I have ten years behind, take all ; 
I'll thank you for the exchange. 

Ant. Oh, Cleopatra ! 

Vent. Again ! 

Ant. I've done. In that Jaft figh flie went ; 
Caefar fhall know what 'tis to force a lover 
From all he holds moll dear. 

Vent. Methinks you breathe 
Another foul ; your looks are more divine : 
You fpeak a hero, and you move a god. 

Ant. Oh, thou haft fir'd me ! my foul's up in arms. 
And mans each part about me. Once again 
That noble eagernefs of fight has feiz'd me ; 
That eagernefs, with which I darted upward 
To Caflius' camp. In vain the fteepy hill 
Oppos'd my way ; in vain a war of fpears 
Sung round my head, and planted all my fhield ; 
I won the trenches, while my foremoft men 
Lagg'd on the plain below. 

Vent. Ye gods, ye gods, 
For fuch another honour ! 

Ant. Come on, my foldier i 
Our hearts and arms are ftill the fame. J long 
Once more to meet our foes ; that thou and I, 
Like Time and Death, marching before our troops,. 
May hafte fate to 'em ; mfw 'em out a paflage, 
And, ent'ring where the utmoft fquadrons yield, 
Begin the noble, harveft of the field , 

Drydkn> 



Chap. XIII. PATHETIC PIECES, $$$ 

CHAP. XIII. 

THEODOSIUS and MARCIAN. 

Theo. Ha ! what rafti thing art thou, who fett'ft Co fmall 
A value on thy life, thus to prefume 
Againft the fatal orders I have giv'n, 
Thus to entrench on Csefar's folitude, 
And urge me to thy ruin ? 
- Mar. Mighty Csfar, 
I have tranfgrefs'd, and for my pardon bow* 
To thee, as to the gods, when I offend : 
Nor can I doubt your mercy, when you know 
The nature of my crime. I am coinroiffion'd 
From all the earth to give thee thanks and praifes, 
Thou darling of mankind ! whofe conquering asm§- 
Already drown the glory of great Julius j 
Whofe deeper reach in laws and policy 
Makes wife Auguftus envy thee in Heav'n \ 
What mean the Fates by fuch prodigious virtue? 
When fcarce the manly down yet fhades thy face,. 
With conquers thus to overrun the world, 
And make barbarians tremble. O ye gods ! 
Should Deftiny now end thee in the bloom, 
Me thinks I fee thee mourn'd above the lofo 
Of lov'd Germanicus ; thy funerals, 
Like his, are folemniz'd with tears and blood; 

Theo. How, Marcian ! 

Mar. Yes, the raging multitude, 
Like torrents, let no bound to their mad grief; 
Shave their wives' heads, and ^ear off their own hair; 
With wild defpair they bring their infants out, 
To brawl their parents' forrow in the ltreets* 
Trade is no more, all courts of Juftice Itopp'd ; 
With flones they dam the windows of their temples,. 
Pull down their altars; break their houfehold gods;. 
And flill the univerfal groan is this, 

p 6 a Conftantinople's 



324 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VI I. 

** Conftantinople's loft, our empire's ruin'd; 
Since he is gone, that father of his country. 
Since he is dead, D life, where is thy pleasure? 

Rome, O conquer'd world, where is thy glory ?" 
Theo. I know thee well, thy cuftoni and thy manner'. 

Thou dofl upbraid me ; but no more of this, 

Not for thy life 

Mar. What's life without my honour? 
Could you transform yourfelf info a Gorgon, 
Or make that beardlefs face like Jupiter's, 

1 would be heard in fpite of all your thunder: 
O pow'r of guilt 1 you fear to ftand the teft 
Which Virtue brings; like fores, your vices make 
Before this Roman healer. But, by the gods, 
Before I go, I'll rip the malady, 
And let the venom flow before your eyes. 
This is a debt to the great Theodomis, 
The grandfather of your illuftrious blood : 
And then farewel for ever ! 

Theo. Prefuming Marcian ! 
What canft thou urge again ft my innocence ? 
Through the whole eourfe of ali my harmlefs youth, 
Ev'n to this hour, I cannot call to mind 
One wicked all which I have done to fliame me. 

Mar. This may be true : yet if you give the fwaj 
To other hands, and your poor fubjecls fuffer,. 
Your negligence to them is as the caufe. 
O Theodofius, credit me, who know 
The world, and hear how foldiers cen(ure kings ;: 
In after-times, if thus you mould go on, 
Your memory by warriors will be fcorn'd, 
As much as Nero, or Caligula loath'd; 
They will defpife your floth, and backward cafe, 
More than they hate the other's cruelty. 
And what a thing, ye gods, is fcorn or pity ! 
Heap on me, Heav'n, the hate of all mankind, 
."Load me with malice, envy, detection, 

Let 



Chap. XIII. PATHETIC PIECES. 325 

Let me be horrid to all apprehenfion, 

And the world fhun me, Co I 'fcape but fcern. 

TriEo. Prithee no more. 

Mar. Nay, when the legions m?.ke companions, 
And fav, Thais cruel Nero once refolv'd, 
On Gaiba's infurrection, for revenge, 
To give all France as plunder to the army ; 
To poifon the whole fenate at a feaft ; 
To burn the city, turn the wild beads out, 
Beats, lions, timers, on the multitude ; 
That fo obstructing thofe that quench the fire, 
He might at once deirroy rebellious Rome 

Theo. O cruelty ! Why tell'it thou me of this ? 
Am I of fuch ab.rbYous bloody temper? 

Mar. Yet fome wiU fay, This fliow'd he had a fpiri-r, 
However fierce, avenging, and pernicious, 
That favourd of a Roman : but f^r you, 
What can your partial fyCophants invent, 
To make you room among the Emperors ? 
Whofe utmoft is the fmaileft part of Nero; 
A pretty player ; one that can act a hero. 
And never be one. O y' immortal gods, 
Is this the old Caefarian majefty ? 
Now, in the name of our great Romulus, 
Why fing you not, and fiddle too, as he did ? 
Why have you not, like Nero a phonafcus ? 
- One to take care of your celeftiai voice ? 
Lie on your back, my lord, and on your ftomach 
Lay a thin plate of lead ; abftain from fruits ; 
And when the bufinefs of the ftage is done, 
Retire with your loofe friends to coftly banquets, 
While the lean army groans upon the ground. 

Theo. Leave me, I fay, left I chaftife thee ! 
Hence, begone, I fay— — 

Mar. Not til! you have heard me out 
Build too, like him, a palace lin'd with gold, 
As long and large as that of th' Efquiline ; 

Enclofc 



326 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

Enclofe a pool too in it, like the fea, 

And at the empire's coft let navies meet : 

Adorn your ftarry chambers too with gems ; 

Contrive the plated ceilings to turn round, 

With pipes to caft ambrofian oils upon you : 

Confume with this prodigious vanity, 

In mere perfumes and odorous diftillations, 

Of fefterces at once four hundred millions : 

Let naked virgins wait you at your table, 

And wanton Cupids dance and clap their wings, 

No matter what becomes of the poor foldiers, 

So they perform the drudgery they are fit for ; 

Why, let 'em ftarve for want of their arrears* 

Drop as they go, and lie like dogs in ditches. 

Theo. Come, you are a traitor ! 

Mar. Go to, you are a boy 

Or by the gods ■ 

Theo. If arrogance, like this, 
And to the emperor's face, fhould 'fcape unpunifh'dy 
I'll write myfelf a coward ; die then, villain, 
A death too glorious for fo bad a man, 
By Theodofius' hand. 

[Marcian difarms hhn, but is wounded. 

Mar. Now, Sir, where are you? 
'What, in the name of all our Roman fpirits, 
Now charms my hand from giving thee thy fate ? 
Has he not cut me off from all my honours ? 
Torn my commiilions, fliam'd me to the earth, 
Banifli'd the court, a vagabond for ever? 
Do not the foldiers hourly afk it from me ? 
Sigh their own wrongs, and beg me to revenge 'em? 
What hinders now, but that I mount the throne, 
And make, befides, this purple youth my footftool ? 
The armies court me : and my country's caufe, 
The injuries of Rome and Greece perfuade me. 
Show but this Roman blood which he has drawn, 
They'll make me emperor whether I will or no j 

Did 



Chap. XIII. PATHETIC PIECES. p 7 

Did not, for lefs than this, the latter Brutus, 

Becaufe he thought Rome wrong'd, in perfon head 

Againfl his friend a black confpiracy, 

And flab the majefty of all the world ? 

Theo. Act as you pleafe : I am within your pow'K 
Mar; Did not the former Brutus, for the crime 

Of Sextus, drive old Tarquin from his kingdom f 

And fhall this prince too, by permitting others 

To acl their wicked will, and lawlefs pleafures, 

Ravim from the empire its deareft health, 

Well-being, happinefs, and ancient glory ? 

Go on in this diihonourable reft ? 

Shall he, I fay, dream on, while the ftarv'd troops 

Lie cold and waking in the winter camp j 

And, like pin'd birds, for want of fuftenance, 

Feed on the haws and berries of the fields ? 

temper, temper me,, ye gracious gods ; 
Give to my hand forbearance, to my heart 
Its conftant loyalty ! I would but make him, 
Roufe him a little from this death of honour, 
And fhow him what he fliould be. 

Theo. You accufe me 
As if I were fome monfter moll unheard of I 
Firft, as the ruin of the army •> then 
Of taking your commifiion; but, by Heav'n* 

1 fwear, O. Marcian ! this I never did, 
Nor, e'er intended it : nor fay I this 
To alter thy ftern ufage ; for with what 

Thou'ft faid, and done, and brought to my remembrance,. 
I grow already weary of my life. 

Mar. My lord, I take your word ; you do not know 
The wounds which rage within your country's bowels j 
The horrid ufage of the fuffering foldier; 
But why will not our Theodofius know ? 
If you intruft the government to others, 
That a£t thefe crimes, who but yourfeif's to blame ? 
Be witnefs, O ye gods ! of my plain dealing, 

Of 



3 a8 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

Of Marcian's honefty, howe'er degraded. 
I thank you for my banifhment : but, alas! 
My lofs is little to what foon will follow : 
Reflect but on yourfelf, and your own joys; 
Let not this lethargy for ever hold you. 
'Twasrumour'd through the city, that you lov'd ; 
That your efpcufals mould be folemniz'd ; 
When on a fudden here vou fend vour orders, 

J J 7 

This, this bright favourite, the lov'd Eudofia, 
Should lofeher head. 

Theo. Oh, Heav'n and earth 1 What fay 'ft thou ? 
That I have feal'd the death of my Eudofia ? 

Mar.. 'Tis your own hand and fignet ; yet I fwear, 
Though you have giv'n to female hands your fway, 
And therefore I, as well as the whole army, 
For ever ought to curfe all womankind ; 
Yet when the virgin came, as me was doom'di 
And on the fcaffold, for that purpofe rais'd 
With* in the walls, appear'd before the army ■ ■ 

Theo. What ! on a fcaffold ! Ha ! before the army . ? 

Mar. How quickly was the tide of fury turn'd 
To foft companion, and relenting tears ? 
But when the axe 

Severd the brighteft beauty of the earth 
From tha: fair body, had you heard the groan, 
Which, like a peal of diilant thunder, ran 
Through all the armed hod, you would have thought, 
Bv the immediate darknefs that fell round us, 
Whole Nature was concerned at fuch a fuff'ring, 
And alt the gods were angry. 

Theo. O Pulcheria ! 
Cruel, ambitious fitter ! this muft be 
Thy doing. Oh I fnpport me, noble Marcian ! 
Now, now's the time, if thou darft ftrike: behold, 
I offer thee my breafl ; with my laft breath, 
I'll thank thee too, if now thoudraw'fl my blood. 
Were I to live, thy counfel (hall direct me; 
But 'tis too late ■ 

Mar. 



Chap. XIII. PATHETIC PIECES. 32^ 

jYJar. He faints ! What, hoa, there I Lucius I 
My lord the emperor J Eudofia lives ; 
She's here, or will be in a minute, moment ! 
Qnick as the thought, me calls you to the temple. 

Ob, Lucius, help 1 I've gone too far; but fee, 

He breathes again. — —Eudofia has awak'd him. 
Theo. Did you not name Eudofia ? 
Mar, Yes, (lie lives: 
T did but feign the ftory of her death, 
To find how near you plac'd her to your heart: 
And may the gods rain all their plagues upon me* 
If ever I rebuke you thus again ! 
Yet 'tis mod certain that you fign'd her death, 
Not knowing what the wife Pulcheria offer'd, 
Who left It in my hand to ftartle you : ' 
Eat by my life and fame, I did not think 
It would have touch'd your life. O pardon me, 
Dear prince, my lord, my emperor, royal mafter t 
Droop not becaufe I utter'd ibme rafii words, 

And was a madman. By th' immortal gods ! 

I love you as my foul : whate'er I faid, 
My thoughts were otherwife ; believe thefe tears. 
Which do not ufe to flow : all (hall be well. 
I fwearthat there are feeds in that ftveet temper, 
T' atone for all the crimes in this bad age. 

Theo. I thank thee firft for my Eudofia's life. 
What, but my love, could have call'd back that life- 
Which thou haft made me hate? But, oh, methought 
'Twas hard, dear Marcian, very hard from thee, 
From him I ever rev'rene'd as my father, 

To hear fo harfii a mefiage ! But, no more; 

We're friends : thy hand. Nay, if thou wilt not rife f 

And let me fold my arms about thy neck, 

I'll not believe thy love; in this forgive me. 

Firft let me wed Eudofia, and we'll out ; 

We will, my general, and make amends. 

For ali that's paft: glory and arms, ye call, 

And Marcian leads me on— 

JVLvr, 



33© PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

Mar. Let her not reft then ; 
Efpoufe her ftraight : I'll flrike you at a heat. 
May this great humour get large growth within you ; 
And be encourag'd by the embold'ning gods ! 

what a fight will this be to the foldier, 

To fee me bring you drefs'd in fhining armour, 

To head the {homing fquadrons !- O ye gods \ 

Methinks I hear the echoing cries of joy, 
The found of trumpets, and the beat of drums, 

1 fee each ftarving foldier bound from earth, 
As if a god by miracle had rais'd him ; 
And, with beholding you, grow fat again ! 
Nothing but gazing eyes, and opening mouths, 
Cheeks red with joy, and lifted hands about you ; 
Some wiping the glad tear that trickle down 
With broken Ios, and with fobbing raptures, 
Crying, To arms ! he's come ; our emp'ror's come 
To win the world ! Why, is not this far better 
Than lolling in. a lady's lap, and fleeping, 

Fading, or praying? Come, come, you fhall be merry : 
And for Eudofia, fhe is yours already. 
Marcian has faid it, Sir ; (he fnall be yours. 

Theo. Oh, Marcian! O my brother, father, all J 
Thou bell of friends ! moft faithful counfellor, 
I'll find a match for thee too, ere I reft, 
To make thee love me. For when thou art with me,. 
I'm ftrong and well; but when thou'rt gone, I'm nothing, 

Lee. 

CHAP. XIV. 
GLOSTER and HASTINGS. 

Glost. My lord, y' are well encount'red; here has 
been 
A fair petitioner this morning with us ; 
Relieve me, fhe has, won me much to pity her; 

Alas ! 



Chap. XIV. PATHETIC PIECES. 331 

Alas ! her gentle nature was not made 

To buffet with adverfity. I told her 

How worthily her caufe you had befriended ; 

How much for your good fake we- meant to do, 

That you had fpoke, and all things mould be well. 

Hast. Your highnefs binds me ever to your fervice. 

Glost. You know yourfriendfhip ismoft potent with us, 
And (hares our power. But of this enough, 
For we have other matter for your ear ; 
The ftate is out of tune : diftracting fears, 
And jealous doubts, jar in our public counfels; 
Amidil the wealthy city, murmurs rife, 
Lewd railings, and reproach on thofe that rule, 
With open fcorn of government ; hence credit, 
And public truft 'twixt man and man, are broke.- 
The golden (ifearns of commerce are withheld, 
VVhich fed the wants of needy hinds and artizans, 
Who therefore curfe the great, and threat rebellion* 

Hast. The refty knaves arc overrun with eafe A 
As plenty ever is the nurie of faction ; 
Jf in good dayss like thefe, the headurong herd. 
Grow madly wanton and repine, it is 
Becaufe the reins of power are held too flack, 
And reverend authority of late 
Has worn a face of mercy more than juftice. 

Glost. Befhrew my heart ! but you have well divhVd: 
The fource of thefe diforders. Who can wonder 
"If riot and mifrule o'erturn the realm, *■ 
When the crown fits upon a baby brow ? 
Plainly to fpea'k ; hence comes the gen'ral cry, 
And fum of all complaint ; 'twill ne'er be well 
With England (thus they talk) while children govern. 

Hast. 'Tis true the king is young; but what of that? 
We feel no want of Edward's riper years, 
While Glofter's valour and molt princely wifdom 
So well fupply our infant fovereign's place, 
His youth's fupport, and guardian to his throne. 

Glost; 



332 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

Glost. The council (much I'm bound to thank 'en> 
for't) 

Have plac'd a pageant fceptre in my hand, 

Barren of power, and fubjefr. to control ; 

Scorn'd by my foes, and ufelefs to my friends- 

Oh, worthy lord ! were mire the rule indeed, 

I think .! mould not fufTer rank offence 

At lar?? to lord i: in the commonweal ; 

Nor would the realm be rent by dilcord thu<, 

This fear and doubt betwixt difputed t it ! e= . 

Has r. Of this I am to learn ; as not hippcfing 

A doubt like this 

Glost. Ay, marry, but there is 

And that of much concern. Have you not heard 

How, on a late occaiion, Doctor Shaw 

Has mov'd the people much about the lawfulnels 

Of Edward's ifflie? By right grave auihority 

Of learning and religion, plainly proving, 

A bafiard fcion never fhouid be grafted 

Upon a royal Hock ; from thence* at fuT 

Difcourfingon my brother's former contract 

To Lady Elizabeth Lucy, long before 

His jolly match with that fame buxom widow 

The queen he left behind him 

Hast. Illbefal 
Such meddling priefts, who kindle up confufion, 

And vex the- quiet world with their vain fcruples :. 

By Heav'n ! 'tis done in perfect fpite to peace. 

Did not the king, 

Our royal matter, Edward, in concurrence 

With his eftates aflembled, well determine 

What courfe the fov'reign rule mould take henceforward I 

When flraJl the deadly hate of faction ceafe, 

When {hall our long-dirided land have reft, 

if every peevifh, moody malecontent 

Shall fet the fenfelefs rabble in an uproar, 

Fright them with dangers, and perplex their brains-, 

Each day, with feme fantaftic giddy change ? 

Glost. 



Chap. XIV. PATHETIC PIECES. 3 33 

Glost. What if iome patriot lor the public good, 
Should vary from ycur fcheme, new-rnould the ftate? 

Hast. Curfe on the innovating hand attempts it 1 
Remember him, the villain, righteous Heaven, 
In thy great day of vengeance ! Blaft the traitor 
And his pernicious counfels, who for wealth, 
For pow'r, the pride of greatnefs, or revenge, 
Would plunge his native land in civil wars ! 
Glost. You go too far my lord. 

Hast. Your highnefs' pardon 

Have we fo foon forgot thofe days of ruin, 
When York and Lancafter drew forth the battles ; 
When, like a matron, butcher'd by her fons, 
And call befide lbme common way a fpectacle 
Of horror and affright to paffers by, 
Our groaning country bled at ev'ry vein, 
When murders, rapes, and maflac'res prevail'd ; 
When churches, palaces, and cities blaz'd, 
When infolence and barbarifm triumph'd, 
And fwept away diflinciion; peafants trod 
Upon the necks of nobles : low were laid 
The reverend crofier, and the holy mitre, 
And defolation cover'd all the land ; 
Who can remember this, and, not like me, 
Here vow to (heath a dagger in his heart 
Whofe damri*d ambition would renew thofe horrors, 
And fet once more that fcene of blood before us ? 
Glost. How now ! fo hotl 
Hast. So brave, and fo refolv'd. 
Glost. Is then our friendfliip x>f fo little moment* 
That you could arm your hand againft my life? 

Hast. I hope your highnefs does not think I mean it: 
No, Heav'n forefend that e'er your princely perfon 
Should come within the fcope of my refentment. 

Glost. O noble Haftings ! Nay, I muft embrace you ; 
By holy Paul, y' are a right honeft man ! 
The time is full of danger and dTinVuft, 

And 



334 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

And warns us to be wary, Hold me not 
Too apt for jealoufy and light furmife, 
If when I mean to lodge you next my heart, 
I pul your truth to trial. Keep your loyalty, 
And live, your king and country's beft fupport : 
For me, I afli no more than honour gives, 
To think me yours, and rank me with your friends. 
Hast. Accept what thanks a grateful heart mould pay : 

princely Glofter ! judge me not ungentle, 
Of manners rude, and infolent of fpeech, 
If, when the public fafety is in queftion, 

My zeal flows warm and eager from my tongue. 

Glost. Enough of this ; to deal in wordy compliment 
Is much againft the plainnefs of my nature : 

1 judge you by myfelf> a clear true fpirit, 

And, as fuch, once more join you to my bofom. 
Farewel, and be my friend. [Exit Gloft. 

Hast. I am not read 
Nor fkili'd and praclis'd in the arts of greatnefs, 
To kindle thus, and give a fcope to paffion. 
The duke is furely noble; but hetouch'd me 
E'en on the tend'reft point ; the matter-firing 
That makes moft harmony or difcord to rneS 
I own the glorious fubjecl fires my breaft, 
And my foul's darling paflion ftands confefs'd ; 
Beyond or love's or friendfhip's facred band, 
Beyond myfelf, I prize my native land : 
On this foundation would I build my fame, 
And emulate the Greek and Roman name, 
Think England's peace bought cheaply with my bloodj. 
And die with pleafure for my country's good. Rowe. 

CHAP. XV. 

GUSTAVUS and D ALEC ARLIANS. 

i ft Dale. Let us all fee him ! 
sd Dale. Yes, and hear him too. 

3d Dale, 



Chap. XV. PATHETIC PIECES. . 335 

3d Dale. Let us be lure 'tis he himfelf. 

4th Dale. Our general. 

5th Dale. And we will fight while weapons can be 
found. 

6th Dale. Or hands to wield them. 

7th Dale. Get on the bank Guftavus* 

Anderson. Do, my lord. 

Gustavus. My countrymen ! 

ill Dale. Ho ! hear him. 

2d Dale. Peace ! 

3d Dale. Peace! 

4th Dale. Peace! 

Gus. Amazement I perceive hath fill'd your hearts* 
And joy for that your loft Guftavus, 'fcap'd 
Through wounds, imprifonments, and chains, and deaths^ 
Thus fudden, thus unlook'd for, (lands before ye ! 
As one efcap'd from cruel hands I come, 
Prom hearts that ne'er knew pity ; dark and vengeful : 
Who quaff the tears of orphans, bathe in blood, 
And know no mufic but the groans of Sweden. 
Yet, not for that my filler's early innocence, 
And mother's age now grind beneath captivity : 
Nor that one bloody, one remorfelefs hour 
Swept my great fire and kindred -from my fide: 
For them Guftavus weeps not, though my eyes 
Were far lefs dear, for them I will not weep. 
But oh, great parent, when I think on thee ! 
Thy nurnberlefs> thy namelefs, fkameful infamies, 
My widow'd country ! Sweden! when I think 
Upon thy defolation, fpite of rage-^- 
And vengeance that would choke them*— tears will flow. 

And. Oh, they are villains, ev'ry Dane of them, 
Praftis'd to ftab and fmile ; to ftab the babe 
That fmiles upon them. 

Arn. What accurfed hours 
Roll o'er thofe wretches, who to fiends like thefe, 
In their dear liberty, have barter'd more 
Than worlds will rate for ? 

Gus. 



336 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII 

Gvs. O Liberty ! Heaven's choice prerogative, 
True bond of law thou facial foul of property. 
Thou breath of reafon, life of life itfelf ! 
For thee the valiant bleed. O facred Liberty ! 
Wing'd from the fummer's fnare, from flatt'ring ruin, 
Like the bold ftork you feek the wint'ry fliore, 
Leave courts, and pomps, and palaces to fiaves. 
Cleave to the cold, and reft upon the ftorni. 
Upborne by thee, my foul difdain'd the terms 
Of empire — offer'd at the hands of tyrants. 3 
With thee, I fought this fav'rite foil ; with thee, 
Thefe fav'rite fons I fought: thy fons, O Liberty 1 
For e'en amid the wilds of life you lead them, 
Lift their low-rafter'd cottage to the clouds, 
Smile o'er their heaths, and from their mountain tops 
Beam glory to the nations. 

All. Liberty ! Liberty !- 

Gus. Are ye not mark'd, ye men of Dalecarlia, 
Are ye not mark'd by all the circling world 
As the great flake, the lafl effort for liberty ? 
Say, is it not your wealth, the thirir, the food, 
The fcotpeand bright ambition of your fouls ? 
Why elfe nave you, and your renown'd forefathers, 
From the proud fummit of their glitt'ring thrones, 
Caft down the mightieft of your lawful kings 
That dar'd the bold infringement? What, but liberty, 
Through the fam'd courfe of thirteen hundred years, 
Aloof hath held invafion from your hiils, 
And fanctified their ihade? — And will ye, will ye 
Shrink from the hopes of the expecting world ; 
Bid yoar high honours ftoop to foreign infult, 
And in one hour give up to infamy 
The harveft of a thoufand years of glory ? 

1 ft Dale. No. 

2d Dale. Never, never i 

3<1 Dale. PeriQi all fun\ 



Chap, XV. PATHETIC PIECES, 33; 

4th Dale. Die all ! 

Gus. Yes, die by piecemeal ! 
Leave not a limb o'er which a Dane may triumph ! 
Now from my foul I joy, I joy, my friends, 
To fee ye fear'd; to fee that e'en your foes 
Do juftice to your valours ! — There they be, 
The pow'rs of kingdoms, summ'd in yonder hoft, 
Yet kept aloof, yet trembling to aflail ye. 
And, O, when I look round and fee you here, 
Of number fhort, but prevalent in virtue, 
My heart fwells high, and burns for the encounter, 
True courage but from oppofition grows; 
And what are fifty, what a thoufand flaves, 
Match'd to the finew of a fingle arm 
That (hikes for liberty ? That ftrikes to fave 
His fields from fire, his infants from the fword, 
His couch from luft, his daughters from pollution ; , 
And his large honours from eternal infamy ? 
What doubt we then ? Shall we, (hall we. (land here. 
Till motives that might warm an ague's frofl, 
And nerve the coward's arm, fhall poorly ferve 
To wake us to refiftance ? — Let us on ! 
O, yes, T read your lovely fierce impatience,; 
You (hall not be withheld ; we will rufh on them :<— 
This is indeed to triumph, where we hold 
Three kingdoms in our toil ! Is it not glorious, 
Thus to appal the bold, meet force with fury, 
And pufli yon torrent back, till every wave 
FJee to its fountain ? 

3d Dale. On, lead us on, Guflavus ; one word more 
Is but delay of conqueft. 

Gus. Take your wi(h. 
He who wants arms may grapple with the foe, 
And fo be furnilh'd. You, molt noble Anderfon, 
Divide our pow'rs, and with the fam'd Olaus 
■ Take the left route — You, Eric, great in arms ! 
With the renown'd Nederbi, hold the right, 
And flrirt the foreft down : then wheel at once, 
Confcfs'd to view, and clofe upon the vale : 

Q. Myfelf, 



338 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VIL 

Myfelf, and my moft valiant coufin here, 

Th' invincible Arvida, gallant Sivard, 

Arnoldus, and thefe hundred hardy vet Vans, 

Will pour directly on, and lead the onfet. 

Joy, joy I fee confefs'd from ev'ry eye, 

Your limbs tread vigorous, and your breads beat high ! 

Thin though our ranks, though fcanty be our bands, 

Bold are our hearts, and nervous are our hands, 

With us, truth, juftice, fame, and freedom clofe, 

Each, fingly, equal to a hoft of foes; 

I feel, I feel them fill me out for fight, 

They lift my limbs as feather'd Hermes light ! 

Or like the bird of glory, tow'ring high, 

Thunder within his grafp, and lightning in his eye ! 

Brooke. 

CHAP. XVI. 

GUSTAVUS and CRISTIERN. 

Crist. Tell me, Guftavus, tell me," why is this, 
That, as a ftream diverted from the banks 
Of fmooth obedience, thou haft drawn thofe men 
Upon a dry unchaniiell'd enterprife, 
To turn their inundation ? Are the lives 
Of my mifguided people held fo light, 
That thus thou'dft pufh them on the keen rebuke 
Of guarded majefty ; where juftice waits, 
All awful, and refiftlefs, to aflert 
Th' impervious rights, the fan&itude of kings, 
And blaft rebellion ? 

Gus. Juftice !— fanctkude I — 
And rights ! — O patience ! rights ! — what rights, thou tyrant? 
Yes, if perdition be the rule of power, 
If wrongs give right, O, then, fupreme in mifchief, 
Thou wert the lord, the monarch of the world I 
Too narrow for thy claim. But if thou think'ft 
That crowns are vilely propertied, like coin, 
To be the means, the fpecialty of luft, 
And fenfual attribution 5 if thou think'ft 

That 






Chap. XVI. PATHETIC PlECfiS. 3^9 

That empire is of titled birth of blood, 

That nature, in the proud behalf of one 

Shall difenfraachife all her lordly race, 

And bow her gen'ral iflire to the yoke 

Of private domination ; then, thou proud one ! 

Here know me for thy king. However* be told s 

Not claim hereditary, not the truft 

Of frank ele&ion, 

Not ev'n the high anointing hand of Ifeav'i^ 

Can authorize oppreffion, give a law 

For lawlefs power, wed faith to violation, 

On reafon build mifrule, or juftiy bind 

Allegiance to injuftice. Tyranny 

Abfolves all faith ; and, who invades our rights^ 

Howe'er his own commence, can never be* 

But an ufurpen. But for thee, for thee 

There is no name*- Thou hail abjur'd mankind* 

Dafli'd fafety from thy bleak, unfocial fide, 

And wagM wild war with univerfal nature. 

Crist. Licentious traitor ! thou csnil blk it largely^ 
Who made thee umpire of the rights of kings, 
And pow'r, prime attribute ? as on thy tongue 
The poife of battle fa.% and arms of force, 
To throw defiance in the front of duty. 
Look round, unruly boy ! thy battle comes 
Like raw, disjointed muit'ring ; feeble wrath ! 
A war of waters, borne againfl the roc I; 
Of our firm continent, to fume, and chafe, 
And ilnver in the toil. 

Gus. Miftaken man ! 
J come empower'd and flrengthen'd in thy weaknefs? 
For though the ftructure of a tyrant's throne 
Rife on the necks of half the~ fuff'nng world, 
Fear trembles in the cement ; prayers and tears, 
And fecret curfes, fap its mould 'ring bafe, 
And fteal the pillars of allegiance from it ; 
Then let a fingte arm but dare the fway, 
Headlong it turns, and drives upon deftruc'Hon. 

Troll jo. Profane, and alien to the love of Heav'n ! 
■ Art thou flill harden'd to the wrath divine, 

0^,2 That 



340 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VIF. 

That hangs o'er thy rebellion ? Know' ft thou not 

Thou art at enmity with grace, cad out, 

Made an anathema, a curfe enroli'd 

Among the faithful, thou and thy adherents 

Shorn from our holy church, and offer'd up, 

As facred to damnation ? 

Gus. Yes, I know, 
When fuch as thou, with facrilegious hand, 
Seize on the apoftolic key of Heav'n, 
It then becomes a tool for crafty knaves 
To fliut out virtue, and unfold thofe gates, 
That Heav'n itfelf had barr'd againft the lufts 
Of avarice and ambition. Soft and fweet, 
As looks of charity, or voice of lambs 
That bleat upon the mountain, are the words 
Of Chriftian meeknefs ! million all divine ! 
The law of love fole mandate. But your gall, 
Ye Swedifh prelacy ! your gall hath turn'd 
The words of fweet, but indigefted peace, 
To wrath and bitternefs. Ye hallow 'd men ! 
In whom vice fanctifies, whofe precepts teach 
Zeal without truth, religion without virtue ; 
Who ne'er preach Heav'n, but with a downward eye, 
That v turns your fouls to drofs ; who, fhouting, loofe 
The dogs of Hell upon us. Thefts, and rapes, 
Sack'd towns, and midnight bowlings through the realm, 
Receive your fan&ion 1 O, 'tis glorious mifchief 
When vice turns holy, puts religion on, 
Afiumes the robe pontifical, the eye 
Of faintly elevation, blerTeth fin, 
And makes the feal of fweet offended Heav'n 
A fign of blood, a label for decrees 
That Hell would fhrink to own ! 

Crist. No more of this. 
Guftavus, would'ft thou yet return to grace, 
And hold thy motions in the fphere of duty, 
Acceptance might be found. 

Gus. Imperial ipoiler ! 
Give me my father, give me back my kindred, 
Give me the fathers of ten thoufand orphans, 



Chap. XVII. PATHETIC PIECES. 341 

Give me the fons in whom thy ruthlefs fword 
Has left our widows childlefs. Mine they were, 
Both mine, and ev'ry Swede's, whofe patriot breait 
Bleeds in his country's woundlngs. Oh, thou canft net! 
Thou haft ontiinn'd all reck'ning! Give me then 
My all that's Mt f my gentle mother there, 
And fpare yon little trembler. 

Crist. Yes, on terms 
Of compact and fubmiffion. 

Gus. Ha ! with thee ? 
Compact with thee ! and mean'ft thou for my country, ; 
For Sweden ? No, fo hold my heart but firm, 
Although it wring for't, though blood drop for tears, 
And at the fight my {training eyes ftart forth— 
They both (hall perifn firft* 

Brooke. 

CHAP. XVII. 

ISABELLA and ANGEL O. 

Isab. I am a woeful fuitor to your honour, 
Pleafe but your honour hear me. 

Ang. Well ; what's your fuit ? 

Isab. There is, a vice that moft I do abhor, 
And moft defire fhould meet the blow of juftice; 
For which I would not plead, but that I muft. 

Ang. Well; the matter. 

Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die; 
I do befeech you, let it be his fault, 
And not my brother. 

Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it? 
Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done; 
Mine were the very cipher of a function, 
To find the faults, whofe fine ftands in record, 
And let go by the actor. 

Isab. O juft, but fevere law ! 
I had a brother then; — j — Heaven keep vour honour \ 
Muft he needs die ? 

Ang. Maiden, no remedy ! 

<k3 Isab. 



342 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him; 
And neither Heav'n nor man grieve at the mercy. 

Ang. I will not do*t. 

Isab. But can you, if you would ? 

Ang. Look, what 1 will not, that I cannot do. 

Isab. But might you do't, and do the world no wrong I 
If fo, your heart were touch'd with that remorfe 
As mine is to him. 

Ang. He is fentenc'd: 'tis too late. 

Isab. Too late r Why no ; I, that do fpeak a word, 
May call it back again ; well, believe this: 
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, - 
Nor the king's crown, nor the deputed fword, 
The marfhal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, 
Become them with one half fo good a grace 
As mercy does. If he had been as you, 
And you as he, you would have flipp'd like himj 
But he, like you, would not have been fo Hern. 

Ang, Pray you, be gone. 

Isab. I would to Heav'n I had your potency, 
And you were IfabeP ; fhould it then be thus ? 
No ; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, 
And what a prifoner. 

Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the Iaw> 
And you but wafte your words. 

Isab. Alas! alas! 
Why, all the fouls that are, were forfeit once; 
And he that might the 'vantage belt have took, 
Found out the remedy. How would you be, 
If He, which is the top of judgment, fhould 
But judge you as you are f O, think on that: 
And mercy then will breathe within your lips, 
Like man new made. 

Ang. Be you conterrt, fair maid ; 
It is the law, not I, condemns your brother; 
Were he my kinfman, brother, or my fon, 
It mould be thus with him ; he dies to morrow. 

Isab, To morrow ! O! that's fudden. Spare him, 
fpare him ! 

Good, 



Cha?. XVII. PATHETIC PIECES. 343 

Good, good my lord, bethink you : 
Who is it that hath died for this offence? 
There's many hath committed it. 

Ang. The law hath not been dead, tho' it hath flept. 
Thofe many had not dar'd to do that evil, 
If the firfl man that did th* edict infringe, 
Had anfwer'd for his deed. Now 'tis awake : 
Takes note of what is done ; and, like a prophet, 
Looks in a glafs that (hows what .future evils, 
Or new, or by remiffhefs new conceiv'd, 
And fo in progrefs to be hatch'd and born, 
Are now to have no fucceffive degrees ; 
But, ere they live, to end. 
Isab. Yet fhow fome pity. 

A*K5. I mow it moft of all, when I mow jufiice; . 
For then I pity thofe I do not know,/ 
Which a difmifs'd offence would after gall; 
And do him right, that, anfwering one foul wrong, 
Lives not to act. another. Be fatisfied ; 

Your brother dies to morrow ; be content. 
Isab. So you mint be the firfl that gives this fentence ! 

And he that fuffers ! oh, 'tis excellent 

To have a giant's ftrength ; but it is tyrannous 
. To ufe it like a giant. 

Merciful Heaven ! 

Thou rather with thy (harp and fulph'rous bolt 

Splitt'fl the unwedgeable and gnarled oak 

Than the foft myrtle : O, but man ! proud man, 

Drefs'd in a little brief authority, 

Moft ignorant of what he's moft afTur'd, 

Plays fuch fantaftic tricks before high Heaven, 

As makes the angels weep. 

We cannot weigh our brother with yourfelf : 

Great men may jeft with faints; 'tis wit in them: 

But, in the lefs, foul profanation. 

That in the captain's but a choleric word, 

Which in the foldier is flat blafphemy. 

Ang. Why do you put thefe fayings upon me I 
Isab. Becaufe authority, though it err like others, 

Q^ 4 Hatfe 



344 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

Hath yet a kind of medicine in itfelf, 

That fkins the vice o' th' top : go to your bofoin ;. 

Knock there, and afk your heart what it doth know 

That's like my brother's fault; if it confefs 

A natural guiltinefs, fuch as is his, 

.Let it- not found a thought upon your tongue 

Agairrft my brother's life. 

Ang, She fpeaks, and 'tis fuch fenfe, 
That my fenfe bleeds with it. Fare you well. 

I sab.- Gentle, my lord, turn back. 

Ang. I will bethink me; come again to morrow. 

Isab. Hark,how I'll bribe you; good my lord, turn back. 

Ang. How ? bribe me? 

Isab. Ay,with fuch gifts, that Heav'n fliall fhare with you, 
Not with fond fhekels of the tefted gold, 
Or ftones, whofe rate are either rich or poor, 
As fancy values them ; but with true prayers, 
That llmll be up at Heav'n, and enter there 
Ere funrife : prayers from preferred fouls, 
Prom failing maids, whofe minds are dedicate 
To nothing temporal. 

Ang. Well, come to morrow. 

Jsab. Heav'n keep your honour fafe! 

A n g. Amen ; 
For J am that way going to temptation. 
Where prayers crofs. 

Isab. At what hour to morrow 
Shall I attend your lordfhip? 

Ang. At any time 'fore noon. 

Isab. Save your honour ! 

ShAKSPEAR*. 

CHAP. XVIIf. 
KING JOHN and HUBJER.T. 

§ *'• 
K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, 
We owe thee much ; within this wait of flefh 
There is a foul counts thee her creditor, 
And with advantage means to-pay thy love: 

And, 



Chap. XVIII. PATHETIC PIECES. &$ 

And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath 
Lives in this bofom, dearly cherifhed. 
Give me thy hand. I had a thing to fay 
But I will fit it with fome better time. 
By Heav'n, Hubert, I'm almoft afham'd 
To fay what good refpecl: I have of thee.. 

Hub. I am much bounden to 'your majefty. 

K. Jomsr. Good friend, thou haft no caufe to fay fo yet, 
But thou (halt have — creep time ne'er fo flow, 
Yet it fhall come for me to do thee good. 
I had a thing to fay — but let it go : 
The fun is in the Heav'n, and the prond day,.. 
Attended with the pleafures of the world,. 
Is all too wanton, and too full of gauds,. 
To give me audience. If the midnight bell 
Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth 
Sound one unto the cirowfy race of night: 
If this fame were a churchyard where we ftand,. 
And thou poffeffed with a thoufand wrongs ; 
Or if that furly fpirit Melancholy 
Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy,- thick, 
Which elfe runs trickling up and down the veins, 
Making that idiot Laughter keep men's eyes, 
And ftrain their cheeks to idle merriment 
(A paffion hateful to my purpofes) ; 
Or if that thou could'ft fee me without eyes,. 
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply 
Without a tongue, ufing conceit alone,. 
Without eyes, ears, and harmful: found of words 5 
Then, in defpite of broad-ey'd, watchful day, 
I would into thy bofom pour my thoughts. 

But, ah, I will not. Yet I love thee well: 

And, by my troth, I think thou lov'ft me well. 

Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake*, 
Though that my death were adjunct to my a£l, 
By Heav'n I'd do't, 

K. John. Do not I know thou would'ft ? 
Good Hubert '.—Hubert, filbert, throw thine eye 
Oil yon young boy. I'll tell thee what, rrry friend, 

-<t 5 He 



34& PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

He is a very ferpent in my way, 

And wherefoe'er this foot of mine doth tread, 

He lies before me. Doft thou underhand me ? 

Thou art his keeper. 

Hub. And I'll keep him fa, 
That he mall not offend your majefty. 

K. John. Death. 

Hu3. My lord? 

K. John. A grave. 

Hub. He (hall not live. 

K. John. Enough. 
I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thcej 
Well, I'll not fay whit I intend for thee : 
Remember. 

§2. 

Hub. My lord, they fay five moons were feen to night. 
Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about 
The other four in wond'rous motion. 

K. Jo»n. Five moons ! 

Hub. Old men and beldams, in the Greets, 
Do prophefy upon it d.ir.ga'oufly. 
Young Arthur's death is common in their jnouths ; 
And when they talk of him they fnake their heads, 
And whifper one another in the ear : 
And he that fpeaks doth gripe tile hearer's wrift, 
Whilft he that hears makes fearful adion 
With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. 
I faw a fmith ftand with his hammer thus, 
The whilft his iron did on the anvil cool, 
With open mouth 1 wallowing a tailor's news j 
Who with his ihears and meafure in his hand, 
Standing on flippers, which his nimble hafte 
Had falfely thruft upon contrary feet, 
Told of a many thoufand warlike French, 
That were embattled and rank'd in Kent. 
Another lean, umvam'd artificer, 
Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. 

K. John. Why feek'ft thou to poffefs me with thefe fears ?. 
Why urgeft thou fo oft young Arthur's death f 
, Thy 






Chap. XVIII. PATHETIC PIECES. 347 

Thy hand hath murder'd him : I had a caufe 

To wifli him deadj but thou had it none to kill him. 

Hub. Had none, my lord ? why , did you not provoke mef 

K. John. It is the curfe of kings to be attended 
By (lives that take their humours ;or a warrant, 
To break into the bloody houfe'of life : 
And, on the winking of authority 
To underftand a law : to know the meaning 
Of dang'rous majeity : when perchance, it frowns 
Mors upon humour, fhan a \ is'd refpeft. 

Hub. Here is your hand and feal for what I did. 

K John. Or-., when the laft account 'twixt Heaven and 
Is to be made, then ftiall this hand and feal [eartk 

Witnefs againft us to damnation' 
How oit the fight of means to do ill deeds 
Makes deeds ill done ? for hadft not thou been by, 
A fellow by the nand^of nature mark'd, 
Quoted, and figried to do a deea of (ha me, 
This murder had 'not come into my mind. 
Bilt taking note of thv abhorr'd afpecl, 
Finding thee fit for bloody villany, 
Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger, 
I faintly broke with thee of Artnur's death: 
And thou, to be endeared to a king, 
Mad 'it it no confeience to dfeftro'y a prince. 

Hub. My lord- 

K. John. Hadft thou but (hook thy hsad, or made a 
paufe, 
When I fpake darkly, what I purpofed ; 
Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, 
Or bid me tell my tale in exprefs words ; 
Deep fhame had (truck me dumb, made me break off, 
And thpfe thy fears might have wrought fears in me. 
But thou didft underftand me by my (igns, 
And didft in (igns again parley with fin ; 
Yea, without ltop, didft let thy heart confent, 
And confequently ,thy rude hand to acl 
The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name.— 
Out of my light, and never fee me more ! 

o 6 My 



343 PATHETIC PIECES. Book .X.tt 

My nobles leave me, and my ftate is brav'd, 

Ev'n at my gates, with ranks of foreign pow'rs;. 

Nay, in the body of this flefhly land, 

This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, 

Hoftility and civil tumult reign, 

Between my confcience and my couftn's death. 

Hub. Arm you againft your other enemies* 
I'll make a peace between your fowl and you. 
Young. Arthur is alive: this hand of mine 
Is yet a maiden, and an innocent hand, 
Not painted with the crimfon fpots of blood; 
Within this bofom never entered yet 
The dreadful motion of a murderer's thought,. 
And you have flander'd Nature in. my form.j 
Which, howfoever rude exteriorly, 
Is yet the cover of a fairer mind, 
Than to be butcher of an innocent child. 

K. John. Doth Arthur live ? Q hafte thee to the peers 
Throw this report on their incenfed rage,. 
And make them tame to their obedience. 
Forgive the comment that my paffion made 
Upon thy feature, for my rage was: blind ; 
And foul imaginary eyes of blood 
Prefented thee more hideous than thou art. 
Oh, anfwer not, but to my clofet bring 
The angry lords with all expedient hafte. 
I conjure thee but flowly : run more raft, 

5hakspeaR£> 

CHAP. XIX. 
NORTHUMBERLAND and MORTON. 
North. Yea, this man's brow, like to a. title leaf,. 
Foretels the nature of a tragic volume : 
So looks the itrond, whereon th' imperious flood 
Hath left a witnefs'd ufurpation. 
Say, Morton, didft thou come from Shrewfbury ? 

Mort. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord,. 
Where hateful Death put on his uglieit mafk 
To fright our party. 

North* 



Lh^.XIX. PATHETIC PIECES. 549 

North. How doth my fon and brother ? 
Thou trembleft ! and the whiteneis in thy cheek 
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. 
Even fuch a man, fo faint, fo fpiritlefs, 
So dull, fo dead in look, fo vvobegone, 
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, 
And would have told him,, half his Troy was burned i 
But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue ; 
And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'ft it. 
This thou would'ft fay; Your fon did thus and thus; 
Your brother* thus : fo fought the noble Douglas :. 
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds : 
But in the end, to flop mine ear indeed, 
Thou haft a figh to blow away this praife, 
Ending with, brother, fon, and all are dead ! 

Mort. Douglas is living, and your brother, yet; 
But for my lord, your fon — — 

North. Why, he is dead. 
See what a ready tongue fufpicion hath !' 
He that but fears the thing he would not know, 
Hath, by inftincr, knowledge from others eyes, 
That what he fear'd is chane'd. Yet, Morton, fpeak * 
Tell thou thy earl, his divination lies ; - 
And I will take it as a fweet difgrace, 
And make thee rich for doing me fuch wrong; 

Mort.. You are too great to be by me gainfaid : 
Your fpirit is too true, your fears too certain. 

North. Yet, for all this,, fay not that Percy's dead, 
I fee a ftrange confeffion in thine eye : 
Thou fhak'ft thy head, and hold'ft it fear,, or fin, 
To fpeak a truth. If he be flain, fay fo: 
The tongue offends not that reports his death : 
And he doth fin, that doth belie the dead, 
Not he which fays the dead is not alive. 
Yet the flrft bringer of unwelcome news 
Hath but a lofing office ; and his tongue 
Sounds ever after as a fullen. bell, 
Remember'd, tolling a departed friend. 

Bardolph. I cannot think, my lord, your fon ts dead, 

Mort. 



3^0 PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

Mort. I'm forry I mould force you to believe 
That which I would to Heuv'n I had not feen, 
But thefe mine eyes faw him in bloody {late, 
Rend'ring faint quittance, weaned and outbreath'd, 
To Henry Monmouth, whofe fwift wrath beat down 
The never-daunted Percy to the earth, 
From whence, with life, he never more fprung up. 
In few : his death (whofe fpirit lent a fire 
Even to the dulleft peafant in his camp) 
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away 
From the beft-temper'd courage in his troops. 
For from his metal was his party fteel'd : 
Which once in him rebated, all the reft 
Turn'd on themfdves, like dull and heavy lead. + 
And as the thing that's heavy in itfelf, 
Upon enforcement, flies with greateft fpeed ; 
So did our men, heavy in Hotfpur's lofs, 
Lend to this weight fuch lightnefs with their fear, 
That arrows fled not fwifter toward their aim, 
Than did our ibidiers, aiming at their fafety, 
Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcefter 
Too foon ta'en prifoner: and that furious Scot, 
The bloodv Douglas, whole well-labouring fword 
Had three times fiain th' appearance of the king, 
3 Gan vaii his ftomach, and did grace the fhame 
Of thofe that turn'tl their backs; and in his flight, 
Stumbling in fear, was took. The fum of all 
Is, that the king hath won : and hath lent, out 
A fpeedy pow'r to encounter you, my lord, 
Under the conduct of young Lancafter 
And Weftmoreland. This is the news at full. 

North. For this I fhall have time enough to* mourn. 
In poifon thee is phyfic : at.d this news, 
That would, had I been well, have made me fick, 
Being fick, hath in fome meafure made me well. 
And as the wretch, whofe fever-weaken'd joints, 
Like ftrengthlefs hinges, buckle under life, 
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire 
Out of his keeper's arms ; ev'n fo my limbs, 

Weaken'd 



Chap. XIX. PATHETIC PIECES. 351 

Weakened with grief, being now enrag'd with grief, 

Are thrice themfelves. Hen ce„ therefore, thou nice crutch 

A fcaly gauntlet now, with joints of tree!, 

Mud glove this hand. And hence, thou fickly quoif, 

Thau art a guard too wanton for the head, 

Which princes, fkfh'd with conauelt, aim to hit. 

Now bind my brows with iron, and. approach 

The rugged*ft hour that time and fpite dare bring 

To frown upon th' ehrag'd Ncrthumbeiland ! 

Let heav'n kifs earth ! Now let not nature's hand 

Keep the wild flood confiri'd; let order die, 

And let this world no longer be a ftage 

To feed contention in a ling'ring a.£t : 

But let one fpirk of the firlf-born Cain 

Reign in all boibms, that each heart being fet 

On bloody courfes, the rude fcene may end, 

And darknefs be the burier of the dead ! 

Sh a k spear 2., 

CHAP. XX. 

THE BARD. 

* Ruin feize thee, ruthlefs king ! 
*' Confulion on thy banners wait; 
** Though fann'd by ConqueiVs crimfon wing, 
** They mock the air with idle ilate ! 
•' Helm, nor hauberk's twifted mail, 
" Nor ev'n thy virtues, tyrant f fhall avail 
" To fave thy fecret foul from nightly fears, 
u From Cambria's curfe, from Cambria's tears V 
Such were the founds, that o'er the crefted pride 
Of the fir ft Edward fcatter'd wild difnay, 
As down the fleep of Snowdon's fhaggy fide 
He wound with toilfome march his long array. 
Stout Glocefter Hood aghaft in fpeechlefs trance [ 
To arms ! cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quiv'ring lance. 

On a rock, whofe haughty brow 
Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, 
Rob'd in the fable garb of woe, 
With haggard eyes the poet ftood ; 

(Loofe 



3P PATHETIC PIECES. Book VII. 

(Loofe his beard, and hoary hair 

Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air) ; 

And with a matter's hand, and prophet's fire, 

Struck the deep forrows of his lyre. 

" Hark, how each giant oak, and defert cave, 

" Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath ! 

** O'er thee, O King ! their hundred arms they wave, 

* c Revenge on thee in coarfer murmurs breathe; 

" Vocal no more, iince Cambria's fatal day, 

*« To high-born Hoel's harp, or foft Llewellyn's lay* 

<(r Cold is Cadwallo's tongue, 
11 That hufh'd the ftormy main:. 
" Brave Urien deeps upon his craggy bed r. 
u Mountains, ye mourn in vain. 
" Modred, whofe magic fong 

" Made huge Plinlimmoit bow Iiis. cloud-topp'd head. 
ei On dreary Arvon's- (h ore they lie, 
«* Smear'd with gore, and ghaftly pale : 
*f Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens fail ; 
" The famifh'd eagle fcreams, and pafles by. 
" Dear loft companions of my tuneful art, 
u Dear, as the light that vifits thefe fad eyes, 
" Dear, as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,. 
" Ye died amidft your dying country's cries— 
" No more I weep. They do not fleep. 
" On yonder cliffs,, a grifly band, 
« ; I fee them fit ; they linger yet,, 
'* Avengers of theirmative land r 
*' With me in dreadful harmony they joiiv 
" And weave with bloody hands the tifTue of thy line 4 

" "Weave the warp, and weave the woof,. 
«« The winding-fheet of Edward's race; 
« Give ample worn, and verge enough,. 
«* The characters of Hell to trace ; 
i( Mark the year, and mark the night,. 
** When Severn- (hall reecho with affright 
*' The fhrieks of death, thro' Berkley's roofs that ring,,. 
44 Shrieks of an agonizing king ! 

" She- 






Chap. XX. PATHETIC PIECES. 353 

** She-wolf of France! with unrelenting fangs, 

" That tear'it the bowels of thy mangled mate, 

u From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs 

" The fcourge of Heav'n. What terrours round him wait ! 

" Amazement in hi* van, with Flight combin'd, 

" And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind! 

" Mighty victor, mighty lord, 
" Low on his fun'ral couch he lies! 
" No pitying heart, no eye afford 
" A tear to grace his obiequies. 
11 Is the fable warrior fled ? 
" Thy fon is gone: he refis among the dead. 
" The fwarm that in thy noontide beam were born ? 
** Gone to falute the riling Morn. 
" Fair laughs the Morn, and foft the Zephyr blows, 
" While proudly riding o'er the azure realm 
M In gallant trim the gilded vefTel goes ; 
u Youth on the prow, and Pleafure at the helm j 
" Regardlefs of the fweeping Whirlwind's fway, 
<f That, huftYd in grim repofe, experts his ev'ning prey. 

" Fill high the fparkling bowl, 
" The rich repafl prepare, 
*f 'Reft of a crown, he yet may fhare the feaff. 5 
11 Clofe by the regal chair 
" Fell Thirft and Famine fcowl 
" A baleful fmile upon their baffled gueft. 
" Heard ye the din of battle bray, 
*' Lance to lance, and horfeto horfe? 
" Long years of havoc urgi their deftin'd courfe, 
" And through the kindred fquadrons mow their way* 
*' Ye tow'rs of Julius, London's lafting fliame, 
*' With many a foul and midnight murder fed, 
" Revere his confort's faith, his father's name, 
" And fpare the meek ufurper's holy head. 
" Above, below, the rofe of fnow, 
i( Twin'd with her blu filing foe we fpread ; 
" The brifUed boar, in infant gore, 
" Wallows beneath the thorny fhade.. 

** Now/ 



354 PATHETIC" PIECES. Book VI! 

f* Now, brothers, bending o'er th'accurfed loom, 
" Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. 

'" Edward, lo ! lo fudden fate 
" ("Weave we the woof: the thread is fpun.) 
" Half (jf thy heart we confecrate. 
" ( t le web is wove : the. work is done.) 
'* Stay, O Say! nor thus forlorn 
" Leave me unblefs'd; unpitied, here to mourn : " 
" In yon bright track, that fires' the weftern Jkies, 
"They melt, they vaniih from my eyes! 
' * c But, •hie ; lemn fcenes on Snowdon's height 
KDefcendi eg fro rhieir gi itt'ring fkirts unroll? 
" Vifloii; of gioty ! foare my aching fight, 
•' Ye unborn ages ! croud not on my foul ! 
" No more our long-loft Arthur we bewail* 
* All had, ye genuine Kings, Britannia's if&e, hail I 

i 
" Girt with many a baron bold, 

" Sublime their ftarry fronts they rear; 

u And gorgeous dames, and ftatefrnen old 

** In bearded majefty appear. 

•' In the midft a form divine ! 

'* Her eye proclaims her of the Briton line ; 

'« Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face, 

*' Attemper'd fweet to virgin grace. 

tc What firings fymphonious tremble in the air ! 

u What drains of vocal tranfport round her play i 

" Hear from the grave, great TalieiTin, hear 1 

" They breathe a foul to animate thy clay. 

" Bright Rapture calls, and i oaring, as (lie fmgs, 

". Waves in the eye of Heav'n her many-colour'd wings, 

fi The verfe adorn again 
" Fierce War, and faithful Love, 
il And Truth fevere, by fairy ficlion dreft. 
M In bufkin'd meafures move 
'* Pale Grief, and pleating Fain, 
*' With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breaft. 

u A voice, 



Chap. XX. PATHETIC PIECES.' 35$ 

" A voice, as of the cherub choir, 

<; Gales from blooming Eden bear; 

*" And difhmt warblings leffen on my ear, 

'< That, loll in long futurity, expire, 

<r Fond, impious, man, think'ft thou yon fanguine. cloud 

" Rais'd by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day r 

* 4 To morrow he repairs the golden flood, 

•* And warms the nations with redoubled ray. 

e< Enough for me : with joy I fee 

* The different doom our fates afiign : 

" Be thine Defpair, and fceptred Care : 

** To triumph, anal to die, are mine." 

He fpoke, and headlong from the mountain's height 

Deep in**the roaring tide he plting'd to endlefs night 



A P P E N D I X. 



CONTAINING 

COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN, 

IN A 

LETTER from a FATHER to his SON. 

MY DEAR SON, 

1 H e point of life, at which you are now arrived, is a 
very interefting one ; and I truft you feel that it is fo. I 
fhould have a much l©wer opinion, both of your undet- 
ftanding and your heart, than I am inclined to entertain,. 
if I could fuppofe you felt no emotions on leaving a father's 
houfe, endeared to you by fo many pleafing recollections, 
and entering upon a new fcene of life, in which you have 
fo many important interefts depending. 

The prefent, my dear fon, is to you a ferious moment. 
It calls upon you to reflect, to deliberate, and to refolve- 
Launching forth, as you are, into the wide ocean of the 
world, where you muft rely for fafety upon your judg- 
ment, prudence, and ftrmnefs, much more than upon the 
wifdom or kindnefs of others ; where every thing will de- 
pend upon your judging rightly and acting well ; you mould 
now make it your firft bufinefs, to fix upon fuchaplan of 
conduct, as you may purfue with fecurity and advantage 
through the remainder of your life. 

Education and example have alreadv taught you to love 
virtue; habit has inclined you to revere her authority and 
obey her laws; and you fet out in life with a happy bias 
towards that which is right and good, and I trull: too, with 
a determined purpofe to adhere to it as long as you live. 
But in order to render you Heady and inflexible in your 
good refoiutions, it is necelTary that you mould be apprized 
of fome difficulties, and warned of iome hazards, which 
you mull: expect to meet with ; and in order to affift you in 
making thegreateft advantage of your talents and opportu- 
nities, it may be of uie to furnifh you with certain rules or 

precepts 






COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. 357 

precepts for your direction in the conduct of life. The 
counsels which I mean to offer you will, therefore, be 
naturally clatTed under the two general heads of caution 
and advice ; caution, with refpectto things which are to 
be avoided; advice, with refpect to things which -are to 
be pursued. 

The nrft caution which I (hall give you is this : Be not 

EASILY PERSUADED TO ABANDON YOUE PRINCIPLES. It 

is not my intention by this caution, to difcourage you in 
the free inquiry after truth ; principles which v. ill not bear 
examining are not worth retaining. It is the indifpenfable 
duty, as well" as the unalienable right of every rational being, 
to ** prove all things," that he may, in the refill t, rt hold 
fa ft that which is good." Review, as accurately as you 
have opportunity, the grounds of thofe religious and moral 
principles in which you have been educated ; examine all 
opinions, difcufs all quefiions, as freely as you pleafe. 
Perfect freedom is the birthright of man ; and Heaven 
forbid, that any human authority mould infringe or re- 
ftrain it ! But in the exercife of this right be modelt and 
uifcreet. If the principles, which in the courfe of your 
education you have embraced, have appeared to you fup- 
ported by folid arguments and fatisfaclory evidence, continue 
to regard them as true, till arguments more folid, and evi- 
dence more fatisfactory on the other fide, oblige you to 
relinquish them : and before you part with any article of 
your creed, be very certain that you do not miftake ridi- 
cule or fophiftry for found reafoning. Should it happen 
that any opinions which you have been taught from your 
childhood to hold facred, and which you have hitherto 
thought well fupported, upon further examination appear 
erroneous, beware that you do not nattily infer, that other 
doclrines, not neceflarily 'dependent upon thefe, are alfo 
falfe, much lefs that the whole fyftem of religious faith refls 
upon a precarious foundation. Carefully diftinguifh be- 
tween thofe opinions, which, from their necefTary uncer- 
tainty, mufl be the fnbject of endlefs difputation, and thofe 
truths which, in fpite of every cavil, niu ft approve them- 
felves to the honeft and unprejudiced mind j and let it 

never 



3 $8 COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. 

never be forgotten, that thefe eternal truths are the 
bafis of thofe practical principles, on which alone 
the fuperftructure of human happinefs and virtue oan be 
fccurely raifed. - 

My next caution is ; Be not ashamed of your piin- 
ciples, nor afraid to* follow them. Diffidence is, 
to a certain degree, an amiable quality in young people. As 
far as it implies diftruft of their own powers in difficult un- 
dertakings, or of their own understandings in doubtful quef- 
tions, it is a pleafing proof of modefty ; but it i? carried to 
a culpable excefs when it leads them to a cowardly defer- 
tion of truth and virtue. When a young man does not 
avow his reverence for religion* or his refpect for decorum, 
in the prefence of the licentious and profligate : when, in- 
ftead of averting his principles with firmnefs, he preferves 
a timid and difgraceful filence, whilft he hears them dis- 
claimed and ridiculed; ilill more, when he yields to the 
current, . fo far as to join in the prophane language, and 
partake of the guilty practices of his companions ; modefty 
degenerates into falfe delicacy and criminal fhame. Do not 
imagine that fuch bafe compliances can be juftified or ex* 
cufed, on the plea of civility and good breeding. On what 
authority can thofe arbitrary rules of politenefs be founded, 
which attempt to fuperfede the eternal obligation of mora- 
lity ? -or what fatisfaction can the recollection of fuch ob- 
fequious conformity to cuflom afford, to counterbalance 
the painful feelings of felf-reproach ? Befides, the truth is, 
that in aim oft all cafes in which young perfons conceal or 
abandon their principles in the fociety of bad men, they are 
more influenced by weak vanity, or falfe ambition, than by 
the mere defire of obliging ; not confidering, that no true 
honour can ever be acquired by that conduct which is not 
in itfelf meritorious, nor any praife be worth receiving, but 
from thofe who are themfelves deferving of praife ; they 
foolifhly wifh to be applauded by others, for actions for 
which they mult condemn themfelves, and are ambitious tc 
be admired and careffed by men, whofe favour and friend- 
fliip is, in fact, infamy. This is one of the molt common 
fnares of youth j if you wilh/my dear fon, to preferveyoui 
a . innocence, 



COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. 359 

Innocence, guard againft it with the utmoft circumfpecnon. 
The principles which your reafon and judgment approve, 
avow thern boldly, and adhere to them ftedfalHv ; nor let 
any falfe notions of honour, or pitiful ambition of mining, 
ever entice you to forfake them. Do what you judge to 
be right, whatever others may think of yon : and lea* a to 
defpife alike the praife and the cenfure of bad me . 
Let me caution you, in the next place, not to suffer. 

YOURSELF TO BE IMPOSED UPON BY FALSE APPEARANCES 

of pleasure. A young man, when he firit efcapes from 
the eye of his parents, and is fet free from the {hackles of 
authority, is apt to imagine that flowers of delight will 
fpring up under his feet wherever he goes, and is loth to 
believe it poflible, that he can rove into any path where he 
will tread upon thorns. He gives an eafy credit to every 
flattering promife of enjoyment, and fancies that he fees 
happinefs under every form of pleafure. And the fond 
dreams, which are proc'u ;ed in his own deluded imagina- 
tion, are too often foitered by the artful foohiltry of liber- 
tine deceivers ; who endeavour to perfnade him, that the 
limitations prefcribed to the indulgence of appetite, by the 
laws of God, or the infatutions cf fociety, are fevere and 
unnecefTary reftraints, and that he is the wifeft and happieft. 
man, who fooneft emancipates himfelf from the prejudices 
of education, and gives the freeh: fcope to his inclinations. 
Believe me, my fon, or rather believe the teftimony of uni- 
verfal experience, when you are allured, that the fair pro- 
mifes of licentious pleafure are fallacious, and that every 
expectation you may entertain of happinefs beyond the 
boundary of virtue, will inevitably difappoint you. In order 
to convince yourfelf of this, without making the dangerous 
experiment, you need only recollect this plain maxim ; that 
where there is, on the whole, more pain than pleafure, 
there can be no happinefs. If the evil confequences of the 
indulgence you feek will be much more than a balance 
for the temporary gratification it affords, the conclufion is 
evident; that to purfue it is, in fact, voluntarily to make 
yourfelf wretched ; a degree of folly, of which it might 
feem fcarcely to'be fuppofed that any rational being mould 

be 



$6o COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. ■ 

be capable. By obferving what is paffi ng in the world, 
inform ycurfelf whether it be not too certain to admit of 
difpute, that licentious and criminal pleafure is naturally 
productive of infamy, difeafe, poverty, and remorfe to the 
immediate tranfgreffcrs ; that it tends to the entire annihila- 
tion of all the domeftic affections ; and that it introduces 
endlefs diforder and confufion into civil fociety. If you 
find all this to be true, and you need not look far abroad 
to convince you that it is fo,— -you will acknowledge that 
moralifts and preceptors havereafon for inveighing againft 
licentious pleafure; artd you will be ienfible, that parents 
who love their children have fome occafion fo* folicitude, 
that they may be preferved from fo dangerous a llate. 
Remember the maxim of an ancient fage : a The love 
of pleafure is a temporary madnefs." 

Another caution, of lefs confequence indeed than the 
preceding, but by no means unworthy of your attention, 
is, Bewa re of prodigality. Generofity is in young per- 
fons fo natural, and, to own the truth, fo amiable a quality, 
that I would be very careful not to difcourage it. Within 
the limits of honefty and difcretion, let it have free fcope. 
But the tranfition from generofity to carelefmefs of expenfe, 
and from this to downright extravagance, is fo eafy, eXpe 
cialiy with the young, that the caution I now give-you i 
by no means unneceiTary. Mod young people take a kind 
of pride in defpifing the little attentions of economy; 
either becaufe they have not yet le:irned the value of this 
humble virtue, or becaufe they are early infected with the 
common vanity of making a fplendid appearance. And 
yet nothing is more certain, nor more evident to thofe 
who have had any experience in life, than that prodigality, 
far from being in any degree meritorious, is a mod perni- 
cious and ruinous habit. Even where it is fupported by 
plenty, it frequently becomes the occafion of difgraceful 
and diftreffing embarrafTments ; but, connected with a 
narrow fortune, it inevitably either produces poverty, or 
leads to iniquity. Many a young perfon, by indulging 
this habit, has wafted an ample patrimony, and plunged 
himfelf into inextricable difficulties ; whilft others with 
i thr 



COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. 361 

the fame temper, but without equal refources, havf caft 
the burden of their extravagance upon honeft tradefmen, 
whom they have robbed of their property, in a meihod 
fomewhat more circuitous, but certainly not lefs iniqui- 
tous, than if they had been guilty of theft or plunder. In 
cafes the moft favourable, this difpofition prevents more 
advantageous applications of wealth, and obftructs the ufe- 
ful and meritorious exercife of generofity in offices of hu- 
manity. Be careful, then, my fon, not to confider prodi- 
galitv as an inoiienfive quality, and (till more not to take 
it for a virtue. 

On the contrary, let me caution you— for in the prefent. 
times there is fome neceflity for cautioning even the young, 

NOT TO INDULGE AN AVARICIOUS TEMPSR. Avarice is 

indeed commonly confidered as the peculiar vice of old 
age ; and perhaps the love of money, as fuch, is feldom 
found to take potTeilion of the heart in early life. But in 
an age, when riches attract fuch univerfal attention, when 
fo much Value is placed upon the decorations which they 
procure, and when they are rendered in fuch a variety of 
ways fubfervient to amufement and pleafure; it cannot 
appear furprifing, if even young perfons are frequently in- 
fected with a fordid thirft of gain, and early learn to fa- 
crifice their tender affections, and even their generous vir- 
tues, on the altar of wealth. Let it not then be thought 
unneceifary or unfeafonable, if I earneftly exhort you, my 
dear fon, who are as yet unhacknied in the ways of the 
world, to beware left you be feduced from your fimplicitv, 
and robbed of your integrity, by the feducing attractions 
of wealth. 

To thefe cautions it is neceflary to add, Beware of in- 
dulging a habit of indolence. Notwithstanding 
that natural vigour and activity, which fo peculiarly diftin- » 
guifli the period of youth, that they might almoft feem to 
fuperfede the neceflity of this caution, it is found, in fact, 
that many young perfons, either through fome mifmanage- 
ment in their education, or through a natural fiuggifhnefs 
of difpofition, fall into an invincible habit of indolence. 
Thofe who are confcious of any propenfities of this kind, 
R cannot 



%6z COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. 

xannot be too careful not to indulge them; for when once 
the tone of the mind is relaxed by (loth, it is fcarcely poffi- 
ble to reftore it. On the moft favourable fuppofition which 
can be made, it muft be expected that a young man to 
-whom indolence is fo far become habitual, that he finds a 
pleafure in idle faunteririg or total inaction, will be' indif- 
ferent to every laudable purfuit, and incapable of every, 
manly and generous exertion. A mere blank in the crea-' 
tion, he will drag on a tedious exigence, without benefit- 
to the world, without credit or affection among his ac- 
quaintance, and even without perfonal enjoyment. But 
it may be much apprehended, that the confequence will be 
ftill worfe. There is in the human mind fuch a powerful 
Spring of activity, that it cannot long remain wholly un- 
occupied. If it be not engaged in fome ufeful employ- 
ments,, k will be ready to liften to every folicitation of ap- 
petite or fancy. Every feducer, who promifes to exchange 
that tedioufnafs of exigence, which is the natural effect of 
indolence for pofitive enjoyment, is heard with eager at- 
tention. Even intemperance and fenfual.ity are fled to as 
the lad refource of a mind no longer capable of rational 
-exertions; and the character which began in infipidity,' 
•ends in depra"ity. Exercife the utmoft vigilance, my dear 
fon, againft the firft intrusion of fo dangerous a gueft as 
indolence : 

O 1 liften not to that enchantrefs, Sloth, 
With feeming fmile; her palatable cup 
By (landing grows infipid,; and beware 
The bottom, for there's poifon in the lees. 
Be al-wavs bufy for forae purpofe either of profit, of ufe- 
ful nefs, or at leait of innocent amufement. Never think 
of finding any gratification in doing nothing. Be bufy for 
yourfelf,°be bufy for your friends, be bufy even in trifles, 
rather than be idle. Nature, who has endued man with 
fuch vigorous powers, and afforded him fuch large fcope 
for action* nev er meant that he mould fit frill. The tenure 
by which -we hold our exigence is, that we ftiould be in- 
duftrious. Labour is the price we .muft pay for riches, 
feme, knowledge, virtue, and happinefs. Think, then, for 

what 



COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEW. 363 

what ends you were created ; think what you owe to your- 
lelf, to your friends and to your country; '< think that 
time has golden minutes, if difcreetly feized," and let them 
not be lavished away in unproductive idlenefs. 

The laft caution which I mall offer you is, avoid bad 
company. This caution is perhaps of more extenfive 
meaning, and of more confequence, thanwou may at firft 
apprehe>:d. By bad'tompanp, I underftand all fuch perfons 
as would either be likely to corrupt your morals, or in any 
other way to injure your reputation, or hinder your im- 
provement. .Low cci:i;a--y, whofe habits, and tafte, and 
manner of converfing are beneath the ftandard of refine* 
ment to which your education and connexions have raifed 
von, it will be vour wifdom to fhun. It is impoflible you 
can reap any benefit from fuch fociety ; and it is not v$#y 
improbable, that it would debafe your ideas, introduce a 
vulgar coarfenefs into your language and manners, and de- 
ilroy your relifh for liberal purfuits. Fiivqlous company too, 
even though of your own, or of a fuperior rank, you wilt 
do well net to feck as your favourite refource in yaur hours 
of leiiure; for, if you indulge a fondnefs for the fociety of 
perfons, who have no relifn for any thing but trifles, and 
no fund of cenverfation beyond drefs, amufements,and the 
news of the day, you will icon ceafe to value thofe fupe- 
rior accompli Ih ments, w hich your afiociates are incapable of 
^dmirinrr, and mil neglect thofe labours, which are necef- 
iary for tfrr-J&afevS tlon of your underflanding and the im- 
provement of your ta'le, when - you mid yourfelf able to 
procure attention and admiration on fo much caller terms. 
Vicious c6nncu\K however,- is t Lat which, above all other, 
you fhcuid be careful to avoid. Whatever confidence you 
prpay be inclined to place in your own good habits and fixed 
refointions, be a-riured, it will fcarcely be poilible that you 
mould often, affociate, with the profligate without beino- 
infected by their corrupt principles and licentious man- 
ner-. You might as foon expert to take fire into vour bo- 
fom and not to be burned, as to become the intimate com- 
panion and friend of bad men, and not partake of their 
vices. The hazaid in this cafe arifes not only from the 

* a general 



364 COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. 

general influence of example, but from that complying 
temper and defire of obliging, which is in many refpects 
fo amiable a feature in the youthful character, and from 
an ambition, under due reftrictions highly commendable, 
of being thought well of by their acquaintance! The ha- 
zard is greatly increafed, when, as it frequently happens, 
licentious principles and conduct are united with brilliant 
talents and engaging manners. It requires perhaps more 
accurate difcrimination, and more fteady refolution, than 
are commonly to be expected in young people, to be able 
to detect the fophiftry, which is concealed under the pleaf- 
ing difguife of wit and humour, and to refift the allure- 
ments of vice, when they come thus accompanied with 
the attractions of politenefs and gayety. Allure yourfelf, 
my dear f< n, your only fafety from fuch dangerous ene- 
mies lies in flight. If you think it of any importance to 
preferve your innocence, and to fecure your peace of 
mind, your credit and profperity in the world, and your 
happinefs through every period of your exigence, avoid 
*— I do not fay, all intercourse with bad men, for this 
could fcarcely be done in the mod folitary retirement — 
but certainly all intimacy and particular friendjhip with 
them : for *' evil communications," naturally, and almoft 
inevitably, " corrupt 'good manners." 

To thefe Counsels of Caution, fefpe&ing things 
which it will be your wifdom and duty to avoid, allow me, 
my dear Ion, to add certain Hints of Advice, refpecr- 
ing the means by which you may attain intellectual and 
moral excellence, and fecure true and lading felicity. 

And here, my firft advice — a due attention to which 
will prepare the way for every wife purpofe, and manly 
exertion— is, *' Be ambitious of excelling." There 
is a natural ardour in young minds, which needs only to 
he well directed, in order to produce the happieft effects. 
There is, moreover, an excufable vanity, common among 
young people, which, under proper management, may be 
turned to good accoun:. At your entrance on the world, 
does your bofom glow with the defire and hope of diftinc- 
tion? cherilu the generous flame. Are you unable en- 
tirely 



COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. 36? 

tirely to rife above the natural infirmity of thinking too 
well of yourfelf ? convert it into a motive to vigorous ex- 
ertion, in the~purfuit of high attainments in whatever is 
laudable. Whilft other young perfons are conceited of their 
prefent talents and acquisitions, be you. my fon, emulous 
of the higheft degree of excellence. No hazard will at- 
tend the indulgence of this kind of third, provided only 
that it be directed towards noble objects. If indeed you ' 
place your merit in difgracefui or trifling difttnclians, a 
fpirit of emulatioa will only ferve to fofter, artd bring to 
maturity your follies and vices. But if you elevate your 
views towards the high purfuits which constitute the dig- 
nity and excellence of rational beings; if you determine 
to live for iuch great ends, as the improvement of your 
own intellectual and moral powers, the communication of 
comfort and enjoyment through the whole circle of your 
perfonal connexions, and the general advancement of 
knowledge, virtue, and happinefs in the world ; — it will be 
impoffible that your ambition fhould be too ardent. It 
was a good precept of one of the Grecian fages, " diligently 
contemplate excellent things." Let me entreat you, my 
dear fon, to keep continually in view the wife defign of 
making yourfelf as perfect and as happy as poflibie; the 
good purpofe of being eminently ufeful in the world ; 
and the laudable end of doing credit to your family and 
connexions, to your country, and to your nature ; and let 
thefe objects infpire you with ever growing ardour in the 
career of merit. 

Your affections thus awake for honourable exertions, 
and the fpring of your mind wound up to its proper pitch ; 
make ufe of every expedient which your own reafon, or 
the wifdom and experience of others may fuggeft, to ac- 
compliili the great ends of life. More particularly, 

Attend diligently to the divine precept, "Know thy- 
self." This precept not only requires a general know- 
ledge of the powers and interefb of human nature, but a 
particular acquaintance with your own powers and your 
own interefts. Eftimate with as much accuracy as you can 
the flrength of your abilities, in order to know in what 
undertakings you may engage with a fair probability of 
* 3 fuccefs, 



366 COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN", 
fuccefs, and what would be unfuitable to your talents, or 
above your capacity. Ob/erve attentively the natural turn 
of your difpofition and temper, tint j ou may difcover 
where it is chiefly neceflary to be wpon your guard. 
Remark diiiinctly the connexions in which you are placed, 
the ftation you hold in fociety, and the circumitances, 
whether favourable or otherwife, which attend you; that 
you may be apprifed both of your difficulties and advan- 
tages ; and that by providing againft the former, and im- 
proving the latter, you may make the molt of your fitua- 
tion. The better you are Acquainted with yourfelf, the 
more likely you will be to preferve propriety and confift- 
ency of character ; — the more effectually you will be 
• guarded againft conceit and prefumctioh on the one hand, 
and againft meannefs and irrefolution on the other. AP 
model!: confidence, becoming a man's ftation and charac- 
ter, is the natural effect of felf-knowledge. v 

Beit your next care?, my fon, to lsarn and exercise 
self-command. The difference between one man and 
ano;her, both with refpect to wifdom and happinefs, 
chiefly confifts in the different degrees in which reafon, or 
pailion, predominates in their characters. Blindly to follow 
the impulfe of appetite and inftincrj would be to degene- 
rate into a {late perfectly brutal. Tofuffer yourfelf to be 
driven about by every gale of pamon, or every breath of 
fancy, without placing Reafon at the helm to fleer your 
conrfe, would perpetually expofe you to the hazard of 
being fhipwrecked on the moais of Folly and Vice. He 
who does not learn to govern his paflions, will inevita- 
bly become their Have. That kind of dominion over 
vourfelf, which refpects the appetites, is abfolutely necef- 
farv to fecure you from hourly difquiet and vexation. 
But beftdes thefe, there is a general habit of felf-pofleffion, 
and lelf-command, which I earneftly entreat you to culti- 
vate, asarrinexhaufnblefourceof tranquillity, and an inefti- 
mable a , vntr.^e in the conduct of life. Wliilft the man 
who incktgps a reillefs and impetuous temper is difturbed 
and agitated bv every trifling occurrence, nifties into action 
precipitately and without due deliberation, zvA often ex- 
pofes hi mi elf to hazards which might have boen eafily 

avoided 



COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. 36? 

avoided, and plunges hjmfelf* into difficulties, from which 
no after-thought can extricate him: he who habituates 
himfelf to reftrain and_fubdue his emotions, and to pre- 
ferve his mind in a calm- and collected flate, will be pre- 
pared to feize and improve favourable opportunities, to 
make ufe of every poffible precaution againft impending, 
evils, and to meet with equanimity the unavoidable vicif- 
fitudes of life. Add to this, that fuch a iedate and com- 
pofed habit of mind will enable you to pro fecute whatever 
you undertake withfteady refolution, and will do more to 
enfure your fuccefs than eager and rapid impetuofity. 
Perfeveranoe accomplishes more than precipitation ; and 
there is much good fenfe in the Perfia-n adage : " The pa- 
tient mule, which travels (lowly night and day, will, in the 
end, go farther than an Arabian courfer." 

At the fame time that you are diligent to know, and 
refolute in governing yourfelf, be careful to avail your- 
self OF THE WISDOM AND EXPERIENCE OF OTHER MEN. 

This may be done, either by a/king advice of fuch friends 
as you judge capable of giving you good couniel, or by 
ft tidying fuch writings as abound with moral wifdorn. 
The latter method will be exceedingly ukful in funaifh- 
ing you with general principles and particular maxims of 
conduct, and in preferving you attentive to the important 
bufinefs of moral improvement. But in particular cafes, 
where it is difficult to determine in what manner it may- 
be expedient to act, no guide can be fo ufeful as a judici- 
ous and experienced friend. Guard agaiaft that conceit 
which would deprive you of the benefit of wife counCels.- 
It is great prefumpuon in any one, and especially in a 
young man, to be fo confident in his own judgment, as 
to imagine that he can never need advice. On all impor- 
tant and difficult affairs, eonfuk thofe friends i:i whofe 
-good fenfe and found judgment, as well as difinterefted 
attachment, you can confide, and do this, not merely as a 
compliment to them, but for your own benefit. If you 
are not difpofed to yield implicit fubmiifion to their judg- 
ment, at lead mien to their advice, and weigh well the 
reafons on which it is grounded, before. you determine; 
<4 He that hearkens to cownfel is wife." 

r- d. Thus 



368 COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. 

Thus prepared, enter, my fori, upon the courfe of life, 
which is before vou, with a determined refolutiou to " let 
Reafon go before every enterprife, and Counfel before 
every action. "_ 

As every man has, or ought to have, fome occupation 
in life, by which he may benefit himfelf and his imme- 
diate connexions, and be ufeful to fociety, the choice of 
an employment, and the manner in which its offices are 
to be executed, every young man ought to confider as 
matters of great importance. Jf, by the united aid of 
your own felf-knowledge, and the judgment and experi- 
ence of your friends, this important choice has been made 
in a manner fuitable to your talents and natural difpofi- 
tions, you may reafonably expect, that your employment 
will afford yon fatisfaction, reputation, and advantage. 
But that the expectations, which you will naturally form 
at your entrance on your profeffion, may not be fruftrated, 
feveral moral and prudential rules mud be carefully ob- 
ferved. On this point let it be your nril care, never to 
engage in any plan of bufinefs, or undertake any concern, 
however profitable, which your heart condemns as op- 
preifive, injurious, or in any other refpect difhonourable. 
Remember, my dear fon, the world itfelf cannot offer 
you a prize, which, would not be too dearly purchafed at 
the expert fe of your honour and integrity. My next ad- 
vice, with refpecl to bufinefs is, trail for fuccefs more in 
your Hull, induftry, honefty, and punctuality, than in any 
arts of addrefs, or any ingenious management, which 
may promife to give you an advantage over your rivals. 
The former are fubftantial qualifies, which, like (lerling 
coin., will always be current.; the latter are flight and 
fuperficial accomplifhments, and, like gilded counters, 
have only an imaginary and temporary value. An oblig- 
ing addrefs, and graceful manners, have doubtlefs a con- 
(iderable effect in winning the attention, and engaging 
the affections of men, and therefore ought by no means 
to be neglected; but after all, the world is commonly too 
wife, at leaft where intereu. is concerned, to be impofed 
upon by mere external ihow, and nothing will fix and 

fee u re 



COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. 369 

feciwe their favour, but that folid merit on which they 
can fafely rely. Make yourfelf thoroughly mailer of 
your employment; be diligent and affiduous in bufinefs; 
be faithful and punctual to your engagements ; be regular 
and exact in all your tran factions, and it will be ftarcely 
poffible you fhould not fucceed. One farther caution I 
{hall add on this head; which is, neither be too much 
afraid of offending others, nor ftoop to flattery and mean- 
nefs to gain their favour. Thefe are methods of thriving 
neither very virtuous^ nor very prudent: "For they 
feldom procure lading efteem or affection: you will find 
your advantage in endeavouring to oblige men by eafy 
civilities and real fervices ; but if you gaia their favour 
by flattery, you can keep it no longer than you are willing 
to be their flaves or their tools *." 

With refpect to thofe hours which are not immediately 
occupied in bufineis, it will require fome discretion and re- 
folution to employ them advantageoufly. As I take it for 
granted, you will be too fennble of the value of time to 
wafte even your leifure in downright idlenefs, I will fup- 
pofe, that except in the hours necefTarily allotted to re- 
frefhment, you will be always engaged either in fome in- 
nocent amufement, or ufeful purfuit. 

In your amufements, my advice to you is, to be select 
and temperate ; felect, that they may not feduce you into 
any purfuits unworthy ofa well-inflructed mind; and tem- 
perate, that they may not interfere with your more impor- 
tant labours, and your higher duties. Thofe amufements 
alone are eligible, which, by affording an eafy and pleafant 
exertion of the bodily or mental powers, exhilarate the fpU 
rits without depraving the tafte, or corrupting the heart. 
And or innocent amufements, thofe a e to be preferred 
which, at the fame time that they anfwer the purpofe of 
relaxation from feverer purfuits, afford fome advantageous 
exercife of the underftanding, the imagination, or the mo- 
ral feelings. The higheft point to be fought in diverfions 
is to mix the ufeful with the agreeable: but where this 
cannot be attained, the ltricleft caution ought, however, 

to 



Lardn&fs Gounfeh of Prudence. 



5?.o COUNSELS TO YOUNG 'MEN. 

to be exercifed, that amufement be not allowed to fupply 

fuel to avarice, vanity, fenfuality, or any other culpable 

pafiion. 

It is an object of great moment, that you ngper-fons mould 
early accufcom themfelves to fill up a confiderable portion 
of their lei Cure with reading. Cultivate, my fon, a tafte for 
reading, and you will find it an' inexhauftible fund of ele- 
gant amufement, and improving occupation. It will ena- 
ble you to enjoy many a folitary hour, which might other- 
wife hang heavy upon your hands ; it will elevate yourtafle 
above that low company, and thofe vulgar diversions, which 
often prove exceedingly injurious to miinftrucled youth; it 
-will fu mi fli you wi'th ftores of knowledge, which will .qua- 
lify you to appear wkh credit and distinction in the com- 
pany of perfons of fenfe aad education ; and it will'enlarge 
ypur capacity of ufefumefs in the feve'ral connexions of 
focie'ty. In order to render your reading productive of 
thefe advantages, be careful in your choice of books, that 
your feelings be not.dehafed, ror your heart corrupted, by 
a kind'ef u evil communication," not iefs dangerous than 
bad company ; and that your tiflie be not wafted upon thofe 
inugnificani and trifling productions, which convey no 
information, afford no liberal exercife for the imagination, 
and excite no manlv, generous, and virtuous fentiments. 
Be guided in this bv the judgment of thofe, wh® have had 
fflrtlieV opportunities than ybur.fclf of knowing w hat book* 
are ht% a$apte i 'd';tq afford you elegant amufement and ufe- 
ful ihiirtfcBori. 

As a confiderable portion of your time will of courfe be 
fpent in company of various kinds; it may be of great ufe 
to you, mv dear fon, to be flirnifhed with certain leading 
maxims aild rules <bt jir-uden'ce on the head of conversa- 
t i on. In vour choice, both of companions, and aflbciates, 
next to moral character, which ought unquenionably to be 
the fir!} object, pay attention to intellectual accomplifli- 
ments, When you go into company, carry with you,' as 
yourconftanf attendants, Hone.lyand Civility : Honeftyto 
preferve you from offering any violenceto your own-princi- 
ples, and civility to preferve you from unneceflarily of- 
fending 



COUNSELS TO YOUNG ME NT. if* 

fending others. In all companies, refpecl: yourfelf fo far 
as to preferve eonfiftency of character; fuityonr converfa- 
tion and addrefsto the diiferent circumPances and charac- 
ters of the perfons yon coaverfe with, but always with the 
ftr*£jfofl atihcrence to what is fit and becoming in yourfelf. 
Regard, in the firf! place, truth and fincerity ; in the next 
propriety and feafonableiiefs; endeavour to keep the due 
medium between opennefs and referve, that you may nei- 
ther, on the one hand, lay an unpleafant and ciifgufting re- 
straint upon the freedom of converfation, nor on the other, 
unneceflarily expofe yourfelf to cenfure and obloquy. The 
end of converfation being the mutual communication of 
ideas and fentiments, it would be abfurd to require from 
young people (ilence in company, as an expreiiion of mo^ 
defly. ■ The fact perhaps is, that there is at leaft as much 
occasion to 'difcoursge among them b'Mlffiil or indolent ta- 
citurnity, as pert and forward talkativenefs. Be careful to 
fay only what is juft and pertinent yourfelf, and be ever 
ready to pay a refpectfui attention to what is laid by others; 
and you will be in no; danger of tranfgrefTm-j. in this parti- 
eubr. Be ever ready to make candid, allowances for the 
errours or prejudices of others : remembering that you, too,. 
have errouft and prejudices, which will call for candour in 
return. Beware of defpifing thofe who may be inferior to 
you in fame accomplifhn ents : they may perhaps be much 
your fuperiers in other refpedts; if not, they may have 
many juft claims to efreem, or at lead are entitled to the 
common expreflions of civility. Laftly, make converfa- 
tion, as much aspefhble, afchool for improvement. Take 
pains to gather up and carry away from every company 
fame ufefui information, or fome good fentiment: or, if 
this cannot always be done, let every company, however, 
afford fome exercife to your good affections, and furnifU 
you with fome matter of ufefui reflection. " The in- 
d'uftrious bee gathers honey from everv opening flower.'* 
In the advice which. I have hitherto given you, I have 
chiefiy confldered you, my fon, in your individual capacity, 
and fuggeiled maxims and rules refpecting your perfonal 
improvement and happinefs. It remains that I add a few' 

hints- 



372 COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEM. 

hints respecting the various important relations in which 
you ft and at prefent, or may expect hereafter to be placed. 

It is an eftablifhed law of nature, that men fhonld de- 
pend upon each other for fubfTftence and happinefs. A 
human being, in a ftate perfectly foiitary and infulated, 
would be deftitute, forlorn, and wretched. Not only 
will you be neceftarily dependent upon others for the ac- 
commodations of life, and therefore bound in equity to 
contribute in your turn to their comfortable exiftence ; 
but one very efTential part of your perfonal enjoyment 
muft arife from the exercife of the focial affections. The 
heart which has no object on which to exercife its bene- 
volent feelings: no one whom it loves, and by whom it is 
beloved, is deftitute of one of the firft comforts of life, 
and muft have a wretched confcioufnefs of vacuity. From 
the united fenfe of obligation and of intereft, learn to look 
beyond yourfelf, and to take an affectionate concern in the 
welfare of others. Through the wife order of nature, this 
leflTon has already been taught you, in your domeftic rela- 
tions. Love to your parents, to your brothers and fillers, 
and to other near kindred, are affections which have al- 
ready taken deep root in your heart, and which have been 
gathering flrength through every advancing year of in- 
fancy, childhood, and youth: ftill cherifh thefe tender 
and generous feelings : they will be the fource of thepureft 
pleasures in the immediate exercife ; and they will be- 
come a ftock, upon which may be grafted every noble 
and difinterefted fentiment of friendfhip, patriotifm, and 
philanthropy. 

The youthful heart is commonly open to the imprenTons 
of friendfhip, and ready to attach rtfelf with ardour to fome 
kindred foul, with which it may participate all the fatif- 
factions of mutual confidence. The early attachments of 
difinterefted friendfhips are fo delightful, and afford fo 
much fcope for the exercife and improvement of good af- 
fections, that they ought by no means to be difcouraged. 
In forming fuch attachments, you fnould, however, be 
careful,that the perfon whom you make choice of as your 
friend, be poffefied of that fteiiing merit which will bear 

the 



COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEM. 373 

tlie Uricflcll fcnuiny : endued with difcretion to fecure 
von from hazard in the free communication of your 
thoughts; adorned with good temper, and amiable man- 
ners, to render the connexion pleafant ; and bleiTed with, 
fenfibility and generality, to repay the affection you be- 
ftmv, Having found fuch a friend, bind him to your 
heart with cords of love. Strengthen the mutual attach- 
ment, by taking an affeclbn'-ite intereft in each other's 
concerns, bv an un referred interchange of ideas and iea- 
timents, and by the* reciprocal performance of kind offices. 
To render friendship perpetual, great caution mult oe 
ufed, not to trefpafs on the affection of a friend by ifn- 
neceftary contradiction, by ill-natured jelling and raillery, 
by feeming neglect, or by rude familiarity. In the midft v 
of all theopennefs, freedom, and confidence of friendfhip, 
the limits of decorum and civility ought never to be tranf- 
greffed. — Since no human characters are perfect, many 
defects, which would otherwife be overlooked, mult be 
discovered upon intimate acquaintance. Hence arifes 
much occafion for the mutual exercife of candour in friend- 
fhip. Above all if you wifli to preferve the affection of 
your friend, you muft fcrupuloufly refrain from the fmall- 
eft violation of fidelity. " Mutual confidence is never, 
for a moment, to be interrupted between friends, whe- 
ther in jefLor earneft; for nothing can heal the wounds 
which are made by deceit." 

You naturally look forward to the time, when you will 
form new connexions, both in domeftic and civil life. It 
is unneceflary at prefent to enter upon the detail of the 
new feries of duties, which will of courfe arife as your 
fphere of action mall be enlarged. Only in general, that 
you may be prepared for the iifeful offices of active life, 
let me advife you to cherifii, in the mean time, the fen- 
timents of benevolence, and to embrace every opportunity 
of expreiling kind and generous affections. Avoid all 
fuch connexions and indulgences as would impair the de- 
licacies of your feelings, and indifpofe you for exercifing 
the "dear charities" of the domeftic relations* Habituate 
yourfelf-to look beyond your own gratification and your 
own convenience, to thofe of others. Generofity is com- 
monly 



374 COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. 
moniy considered as the natural difpofition of youth; but, 
perhaps, more credit is given them on this ground tiian 
they commonly deferve; difinterefted benevolence is not, 
perhaps, To much the natural produce of juvenile ardour, 
as the rare fruit of minds which have been long the fub- 
jefts of moral cukure. However this may be, it will not 
be denied, that the general tendency of what may be 
filled : fajhiwiibk manners in the preient times, is to dif- 
courage the natural expreffiqns of fenfibility, and to fa- 
vour the indulgence of a felfiil) temper. Nothing can be 
of more importance, my dear fon, both to your comfort 
and ufcfuhufs, m future life, than that you (hould early 
check, every propensity of this kind. If you wifh to be 
admired as a companion, or loved as a friend ; if you would 
attach thole with whom you are connected to your inte- 
reft; if you are ambitious to be refpected in your neigh- 
bourhood for 'civility, generofity, and public fpirit ; if 
you afpire after the exalted merit of being a friend to man- 
kind ; — early accuftom yourfclf in the dah'y intercourfes of 
life, to bend your own inclinations and humours to thofe 
of others : exercife yotirfelf in the practice cf civility and 
kinduefs, t'hl yen find your chief. piejafu re in obliging and 
lerving others; inured ypurfelf in every iceue of forrcw, 
or misfortune, which offers icfdf, to your notice ; be at- 
tentive to every occurrence, m vv-liich the public rrofpu'rv, 
or the caufe of virtue and religion is concerned. la 
word, jiever forget that you are born not for -yourfclf 
'alone, but for. your family, your neighbourhood, your 
countrv, and the worlc'i ; and on every occafion which 
caiW for the exercife p^ hurr.ane ariohgrfieroiis feelings, i y, 
* : I am a man, and nothing iiHerefling to human, nature is 
indifferent to me." \ | i 

Another arncle.ofadyice i\ill remains to be added, whic u , 
though the hill, is bv. no mean-, the lead important. It is 

thlS".' Ra.ISE THE EDIKICS OF YOUR VIRTUE AND HAPPI- 
NESS UPON THE SURi: FOl'N'fc \TION OF J' f:. IT G I.O N . 

Think it not luihe'eiU that, in con'>'<]ue\icr uuca- 

tion and fublvquent- inquiry,, you -admit ihe doctrines 
of. -the. exiilrucc, pr->"ider.ce, and .moral rcvernmeot of 
Almighty God as articles of belief; but, by frequently rc- 

6oik£ling 






COUNSELS TO YOUNG MEN. 37 $ 

collecting them as truths in which every rational being is 
deeply interefted, deduce from rhem practical principles, 
to guide you in the conduct of life. Confider every rule 
of fobsiety and felf- government which prudence prefcnbes, 
and every act of juitice or charity which benevolence dic- 
tates, as enjoined by the authority of the Great Being, 
who has eftabliihed that conftitution of nature, in which 
virtue and happinefs are inseparably united, and who has 
engraved -the law of virtue on every human heart In 
order to preferve upon your mind a deep impreffion of the 
authority of religion — fuch an impreffion as may attend 
you with powerful influence, through every fcene of life, 
and become an effectual guard of your innocence and inte- 
grity — make religious ideas and fentiments familiar to you 
by the frequent peril fa I of fuch writings as explain and 
en fore e«t hem, and by a regular and diligent attendance. 
upon religious institutions. Adhere {readily to that ' reli- 
gious fy.item . and profelilon which you judge moft con- 
fonant to reafon and truth: but after ail let it be your 
chief care, that your religion be fomethhig more than an 
opinion, or fentiment :— that it be the principle and 
ground of every amiable and resectable* virtue in your 
character. 

It now only remains, that Learnedly entreat von, my 
•dear fon, to treafure up in your heart the counfels "which 
I have offered you, and employ them in the regulation of 
your future conduct, as the fure way to efcape the fnares 
of folly and vice, and to attain. diftinguiftied eminence in 
wifdom, virtue, and happinefs. 

I am, my dear fon, 

Your ever affectionate Father, 



T-H E E.N D. 



Printed by Luke Hansard, Great Turnfflle, LincolnVIna Fields, 



Books for the Ufi p; Young Men,, 

Printed for J. Johnson, in Jt. Paul's Ch?jrchtard. 

i. GYMNASTICS for YOUTH; or, a Practical Guide 

to Corporal Exercifes: Being an Effay toward the r.eceflary 

Improvement of Education, chiefly as it relates to the B»dv\ 

Freelv tran dated from the German. Price 9s. in boards. ■" 

2 ENGLAVD DELINEATED; or, a Geographical 
Defcri prion of every County in England and Wales; with 
a concite Account of its moft important Products, natural 
and artificial. For the Ule of young Perfons. By J. Aik in, 
M. D. Third Edition, corrected, with Outline Maps of the 
Counties of England, 8s. b.^und. 

3 The STUDENT'S POCKET DICTIONARY; or, 

Compendium of Un venal Hiftory, Chronology, and Biography, from the 
earliest Accounts to the prefent Time, with Authorities. In two Parts. 
Part I. containing a Compendium of Univerfal Hiftory.. Part II. A 
Compendium cr Univerfa! Biography. By Thomas Mortimer, Efq. 
The Second Ldicion, with confiderable Emendations and_ Additions. 

' 4 BUFiON'S NATURAL HISTORY Abridged, with 
a great Number of Plates, 2 Vols. Svo. 18s. bound. 

5. A SYSTEM of NATURAL HISTORY, adapted 
to the Capacities of Youth. By M. Raff, Profeflbr at 
Goettingen. With Plates, 2 Vols. 10s. bound. 

6. LETTERS from a FATHER to his SON. By 
Dr. Aikin. 2 Vols. Price 12s. bound. 

7 . EPITOME of MODERN HISTORY. By J. 
Payne, 2 Vols. 15s. bound. 

3. LECTURED on HISTORY and GENERAL 
POLICY. By Jos. Priestley, LL.D, F.R. S. 2 Vols. 
Svo- 14s. bound. 

9. A New CHART of HISTORY, with a Book ex- 
plaining it, containing an Epitome of Univerfal Hiftory. 
By Dr. Pkiestley. Price 10s. 6d. 

The capita. Ufe of a Chart cf this kind is, that it is an excellent mechanical 
Help to the Knowledge if Hiftory, inprejirg the Imagination indelibly with a 
juft Image of the Rije, Progufs, Extent, Duration, and contemporary State 
of ail the conflderable Empires that have ever exiftcd in the World. 

10. A CHART of BIOGRAPHY, with a Book explain- 
ing it, containing about Two Thoufand Names of Perfons the rrsoft dif- 
tinguiihed in the Annals of Fame, the Length of whofe Lives is here re- 
presented by Lines drawn in Proportion to their real Duration, and placed 
fo as *.o ihow bv Intuition, how long any Number of Perfons were contem- 
porary, and how long one Life began before, or extended bevond another. 
The Names are alfo diftributed into Chiles. By the Same. Price 10s. 6d. 

The Price of tbefe Charts en Canvas and Rollerst to hang up in the Parlour 

3 s \%b& w 



tacc 



